


after your lips turn blue

by glimmerFae (verfens)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (the fake relationship is baptiste and mccree), Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Breaking Up & Making Up, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, ex-McMercy, jesse mccree is a siren, merman au, the merfolk are baptiste sombra and mccree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-06-03 12:59:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19464511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verfens/pseuds/glimmerFae
Summary: Gabriel can't see too well, the water's too dark, too murky. It's Gibraltar, and it's sunset, and he's fairly certain he hit the waves too hard, but he grabs Jesse, the body limp, and drags him to the surface with him, gasping for air as he treads water and starts to count the seconds, feeling the cold set into his bones from the Atlantic while he waits for medical to show up and rescue them both.(It's much later when he recalls this detail, and even when he does he doesn't recount it to the worried Dr. Ziegler.But if he wasn't sure he'd completely whacked his head good against the ocean, he'd swear that he saw scales below the surface, sparkling in the light of the setting sun.)Jesse makes a discovery about himself at the lowest point in his life.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah yeah im late for mermay by a Bit but its summer, sims 4 island living is out, that means you fuckin' kno I have jesse and Gabriel plugged in as mermen in my game (if u wanna see them they're on my twitter feed lmfao shameless plug again @harmicist)
> 
> I usually write in past tense bc I personally like past tense, and besides that I was forced 2 write all my papers in college (save the odd ball out in something like…literature courses and my Arabic papers) in past tense, but I think imma try it out. Experiment a bit. if you read my normal works I'd love your opinion on which you prefer tbh.

Jesse McCree doesn't really like Watchpoint: Gibraltar, and it's hard for him to try and pin down a reason.

It's not that it's lacking for inspiring views- when you're more or less on the rock of Gibraltar, on the clear days you can see straight over to the opposite continent, a picturesque view of Morocco across the straight. The setting's nice. The beaches are warm and he'll lie in the sand when he's able. The cliff face reminds him of Deadlock Gorge, though if he really wanted to get that sensation he'd have to drive into Spain proper, over to Andalucía.

The people on base like him well enough, so he's never had complaints there- even considering the times. _Especially_ considering the times, really.

Blackwatch is such a dirty word these days even their own ex-operative had stopped speaking to him. So Jesse takes what he can get.

He can't say he's all that shocked that he's so popular. He's got a handsome face, and Miss Amari had always vouched for him, not that she had to- considering everyone had seen just how good he was with her daughter back when she was a little thing.

Food isn't bad either, and he's spoiled for choice- the positioning means there's Mediterranean, Moroccan, Spanish and even British foods available both on base and nearby.

It's not that he hates the place. He doesn't. He enjoys his time there, but it's just as well when he's back in Zurich or at any of the other bases.

But there's always just this…underlying hum that disturbs him, when he's sitting at the cliff staring out at sea, or when he stands at the edge. A cigarillo takes off the edge, as does a beer, but it's always back.

Something about the sea just stares back at him and vibrates deep within Jesse, sucking all the air out of it.

The one time he brought it up to the doc, she'd blamed it on a fear of the ocean, and that made some sense. Jesse- for all his many talents- couldn't swim well. He'd done the mandatory doggie paddling sessions, learnt to float on his back and the basics of swimming at Ana's insistence in his early 20s after she'd seen him on a training session gone wrong where he just _sank_ when he hit the pool.

However, the ocean is a whole different beast than the rinky dinky training pool, and its deep, dark vastness got under his skin in a completely different way than the vastness of the desert did.

Something in him whispered at the time that Angela had been wrong, that he wasn't afraid of the ocean, and that the thing that sat in his chest wasn't anxiety, but _calling_ him… but it was always easy to ignore.

And so he sits on the cliff side, just as he does every time he's on the base, and uses a cigarillo to calm that unsettling feeling inside, and he closes his eyes and lets the breeze wash over him and tries to settle his own chaotic thoughts.

He's not out here because he likes to sit here, not now at least.

" _McCree, if that's all, I have other work to attend to." Angela, her back turned to him, dismissing him from her wing._

_The wrong person sitting in the Captain's office- as much as he liked Sojourn, she was no Ana._

" _This doesn't involve you, Agent McCree." Gabriel had said, voice harsh, as he'd closed the door._

_The way he always seemed to miss Genji, the kind of way you miss a person when you know, deep down, they're avoiding you._

" _You've reached Fareeha Amari. I'm not available to take your call right now, please leave your name and number and I'll return the call when I'm able."_

Jesse turns his phone over in his hand as he breathes out smoke.

He's felt useless for a long time, (ever since Venice) but it's the first time he's been useless _and_ unwanted. Blackwatch had a hole growing in it, filling with some ugly black mold, and the divide between Overwatch and Blackwatch was just growing. Gabriel was busy with Moira, and for some unknown, undisclosed reason he wasn't sharing the going ons with his second in command, but it wasn't something Jesse could press without risking actual discipline.

As good of friends as they are, lately Gabriel's hammered in the fact that at the end of the day he's still Commander Reyes, and Jesse's still Agent McCree. Even if they've bumped uglies, even after they started sleeping in the same bed, even though Blackwatch was as much of Jesse's creation as it was Gabriel's, with all the work he'd put in.

Jesse doesn't know what the hell has gotten into Gabe, but it's apparently not Jesse's place to check it, or check the infighting going on in Blackwatch itself.

(The resignation letter, effective immediately, sits unsigned in his desk drawer, hidden under other papers. He's not there yet, but he's never been closer.)

His accidentally lets his cigarillo burn down to his fingertips, and he curses lowly in surprise, dropping it onto the rock and shaking out his hand. He stamps out the embers- before they have a real chance to catch- with his cape, and then sits there, feeling hollow all over again.

It's not that he relies on people for purpose. He's just as good on his own. He's just…unused to the hostile vibe he's gotten more recently.

It's unfamiliar ground, and it's knocked him off his game, and he already isn't the biggest fan of this place. The hum in his chest is harder to ignore without the ambient noise of friends.

And lately, he's run a little low on those.

His comm beeps from his pocket, and he jolts up a bit. Maybe Genji answered him, or maybe its Gabriel calling him to his office…but he's disappointed when it's just an assignment. Reporting on the data rolling in, again, as Blackwatch was still grounded.

" _You know that they're not the right team for this, Sojourn." McCree had argued with her, in the office that just felt wrong. "Blackwatch is."_

" _Blackwatch has already mucked this up once- my team can handle Maximilian." Sojourn disagreed. "I believe in my team, McCree, and even if I didn't, Blackwatch is still blacklisted from missions."_

" _Genji's out there." He drawled, frustrated._

" _Genji's our asset now, not a Blackwatch Agent. If that's all, thank you for the report, I know that office work gets boring, but the way things are right now, you better start getting used to it." She had looked genuinely pitying at Jesse then, considering him. "I know it's not where you want to be. But my hands are tied, and I can't give you any leeway here. The strike commander's under enough pressure as is, but that's your side's problem too."_

" _ **He's**_ _not listening to me either." Jesse ground out, shaking his head as he turned away. "And some of us ain't lucky enough to be Overwatch material." He sarcastically bit out, knowing that it was a low blow, but he was angry and hurting and feeling like if he was already viewed as the problem, might as well act like it._

It isn't that he dislikes either of the newbies. He actually likes the rookie- she's perky and peppy and a bright spot in the middle of some really dark times for their organization. The monkey was a bit of a stick in the mud, but he didn't _dislike_ him.

It's just that it would have been- _should_ _have been_ \- his strike team in Havana right now.

Gabriel and Jack had argued themselves hoarse over the matter, but nothing had changed.

Lena is in charge of the mission, and Jesse is stuck on base in Gibraltar, filling out reports and giving them what little insight he could glean from Overwatch's struggling anti-terrorism division.

He sighs, knowing that there was nothing else to do but to do the assignment, and he stands up, brushing off his ass in the process. He isn't expecting anything to happen, anything to change, but life decides then and there to bite him in the ass.

The rocks at his feet break away from the cliff face, and he curses, doing a short dance, a panicked roll, and a mad grab at the rocks, to no avail. He's wide-eyed- tripping, sliding, and then fucking _freefalling_ down a goddamned cliff face, the ocean rapidly coming up to swallow him fucking whole.

He closes his eyes before he hits the water, and hopes to god that someone saw him fall, otherwise his body showing up on a beach in Malaga or Gibraltar _will_ not be a good look.

Assuming it gets there at all is the unsettling thought he ends with when he blacks out.

XXXXX

Gabriel Reyes' day hasn't been a good one.

For starters, he'd had an appointment with Moira first thing, and McCree had walked in, only to have his head bitten off for asking questions. His agent had given him a look that had hit Gabriel- irritable from the medications he was on- completely wrong, and it had sparked another fight between them where it'd ended with Gabriel pulling rank on his best friend and bedmate.

After that, a meeting between him, Jack, and Sojourn had been derailed with another argument over the jurisdiction of the Maximilian mission, and ended with Jack dismissing him from the room altogether.

He'd then had to do the unfortunate job of sending out an analysis request to McCree, who was becoming sick with all the paperwork he was doing without payoff, and immediately afterwards he was greeted with the sight of that same man he wanted to avoid, frustrated and groaning lowly at the request.

He had almost gone over to ask if he'd rather have nothing to do, when his agent had suddenly lost his footing, the rocks going out from beneath him, and had vanished over the side of the goddamned cliff with a choked off yelp.

So no, Gabriel Reyes isn't having a good day.

He still runs in panic towards the edge, cursing in a stream of words that tumble one over the other, "Jesse, fucking shit you goddamned prideful sunuva bitch don't make me have to jump in after you," only able to catch Jesse hit the water squarely at the bottom, flailing like one of the stupid inflatable tube sock things at car dealerships. He only wonders for a second before he realizes one tiny little fact written in Jesse's file that he'd put there years back but never thought much of.

" _Poor-to-no swimming- passed basic testing."_

In spite of everything, he still cares about the man, as much as they've fought recently.

Gabriel sends a quick alert to medical that they need immediate assistance at the left side of base, strips his tactical gear off as it'd only weigh him down, and throws himself over without another thought, doing a sharp dive towards where he saw McCree sink.

He's not going to let his best agent drown. He's not about to let _Jesse_ drown.

He hits the water _hard_ , and it takes his breath away. He regrets diving for a heartbeat, but McCree had sunk considerably and had needed him to go after him.

Gabriel can't see too well, the water's too dark, too murky. It's Gibraltar, and it's sunset, and he's fairly certain he hit the waves too hard, but he grabs Jesse, the body limp, and drags him to the surface with him, gasping for air as he treads water and starts to count the seconds, feeling the cold set into his bones from the Atlantic while he waits for medical to show up and rescue them both.

(It's much later when he recalls this detail, and even when he does he doesn't recount it to the worried Dr. Ziegler.

But if he wasn't sure he'd completely whacked his head good against the ocean, he'd swear that he saw scales below the surface, sparkling in the light of the setting sun.)

XXXXX

Jesse wakes up the same place he'd been kicked out of less than a day ago, and he coughs, something uncomfortable settled in his chest.

Or, more accurately, he tries to cough. He looks down, and sees a dreaded sight, looking back up towards the ceiling.

He's been intubated.

That explains the ache at least, he thinks, no small amount of irony in the way he rolls his eyes at himself. The event suddenly comes back to him, and he groans around the tube in his mouth.

He'd fallen off the goddamned cliff- a shitty end to a shitty day. He'd likely fried his poor cell phone and comm, and they'd likely been forced to cut off all his nice clothes. He imagines, though, Angela reveling in the destruction of his beloved Deadlock belt. His hat had almost certainly been lost, and his boots were probably destroyed, waterlogged and water _damaged_.

Now he was all dolled up in hospital gear, and Angela comes in moments later, seemingly summoned by his thoughts.

"McCree." She sounds harried at first, before she collects herself, coughing. "It's good to see you're awake. The tube shouldn't be in there much longer, we were being cautious considering the fact that you cannot swim." She explains, her work face on. Jesse can't answer her fully, so perhaps that makes this easier for her.

He raises an eyebrow, and she sighs. "Gabriel is the one who found you. He's still in observation. Surprisingly, he's in worse shape than you are, he gave himself a concussion diving after you, and he claims that you were unconscious already." She seems irritated by that, and McCree looks away. He can hear the blame in her tone, if nothing else. " _Please_ be mindful of the edge of the cliff in the future, McCree- it's dangerous. A nurse will be in shortly to help remove the equipment."

She averts her gaze, ducks her head, and then shortly enough she's turned tail and has left the room, only the vague scent of her perfume left.

Jesse tells himself mentally he's fine with that. Better to have someone else get up close and pull that out. It's not like Angela has wanted to be around him on a professional level in ages. Why bother with the personal one?

The nurse is in and out quickly enough, McCree's practiced with tubes. He had a few scares in Blackwatch over the years, and lets the nurse remove the IV.

It's a shock to him too, that he's this okay. He'd always been a bit afraid of falling into the ocean- he wasn't a great swimmer, and this had been the worst-case scenario. He'd been alone, it'd been off the cliff, and he'd blacked out the moment he hit the water.

But he is fine.

He knows better than to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he's worried about Gabe.

A concussion, huh? He darkly wonders if that would knock Gabe's attitude back into check, but immediately feels bad about it as he walks out without a scratch, only a basic concussion check list that he's already been through a thousand times, some painkillers that he already knows he won't use, and a stern warning not to sit on the cliff edge again, which everyone there already knows he's gonna ignore.

"Question," He asks the nurse, voice hoarse from the tube. "Is Commander Reyes taking visitors yet?"

"No," the man shakes his head, seeming concerned for the man who'd taken all their instructions without so much as a blink or even seeming concerned over the fact he'd almost died.

Shockingly, even to him, he's absolutely fine with what happened yesterday. He had been offered all sorts of papers of on base therapists, just as he had been in the aftermath of the Poland Mission, but he's really, truly, more fine about the situation than he's ever been.

For some odd reason, it felt like the water had caught him, _embraced_ him.

Welcomed him home.

For the first time ever, walking around in Gibraltar, the hum in his chest is completely gone. The fall had hit the spot he hadn't realized needed to be quenched, scratched something he wasn't even aware had been itching until suddenly he'd brushed up against it.

He returns to his room, and closes his eyes.

He sinks to the floor, breathing out a long, shuddering sigh.

He's alright with it, he's sure of it, and now he'll be able to get back to work, things'll turn out okay. Gabriel is still there for him, and he'll be reinstated. He's sure of it.

The hum returns, and he clutches his chest, and he shakes.

He's fine with it. But now that he's itched whatever the hell it was that had always sat in his chest, it's like mosquito bite, demanding attention.

Jesse sits there on the floor, in the dark, trying desperately to ignore that which can't be ignored, burning a hole into his very soul.

As he takes the pills that he usually avoided like the plague with a shot of bourbon, he revises his earlier assessment of Gibraltar, the desperate inhales of air eroding his resolve like the crash of the waves had pounded away the cliff face and made him fall in the first place.

He _really_ fucking hates this place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapters already written, this is just the prologue, and im deciding to shake things up a bit pairing wise. i have a lot of mcrey fanfics in this time period, one of which i just finished. Love your thoughts on that too, so if you finish this and go, damn I'm still thirsty and I want something with a happy ending already, well, there you go. 
> 
> See you next wednesday! l live for positive reinforcement, so comments are appreciated.


	2. Blackwater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, chapter 2! Thanks 2 everyone readin this, I hope you enjoy it. We're introducing a lot of things, and Jesse makes some conclusions about himself.

The world is consumed with darkness, water, and McCree is swallowed whole and crushed in the embrace. Gabriel Reyes' face reflects and refracts above the water, hands reaching in like talons, elongated by the surface of the water, holding him down and yet, holding onto him tight.

He can't scream, he can't free himself, water pours into his mouth and his body writhes, his legs kicking against water.

His lips turn blue and he goes limp, powerless, running out of air.

Gabriel lets him go, and the darkness floods in from the sides of his vision, he watches coldly as he descends to the depths below, before the hum overtakes him and he breathes in once again.

Sitting in the backseat of his dream, McCree _screams_ , and the water runs red.

With a desperate gasping breath, Jesse McCree wakes up, and sits up in his bed, alone.

He's not surrounded by blood, Gabriel is gone- he's not trapped underwater, and he's in his Blackwatch quarters. A hand tentatively goes to his neck, where he'd breathed, and finds nothing but skin and sweat.

It was just a nightmare, Jesse tells himself, rubbing his chest where he's convinced himself the run in with the medical wing after the incident _doesn't_ hurt or make his voice weak. The tubes were fine, he tells himself again. He just has to recover from it.

He lies down after a few moments of sitting at full alert, and he pants. Jesse closes his eyes, but immediately is greeted with the image of Gabriel Reyes' hauntingly angry face holding him down in the water, drowning him but not _drowning_ him.

Every night for the past week has been the same as this night. He wakes up in a pool of his own sweat, struggling to breathe, and he wishes that Gabe had actually done what he promised, not for the first time and almost definitely not for the last. He wishes that they'd not argued, that they'd talked, but Gabe hadn't done what he promised.

So Jesse's bed was still empty, and it was to the point where his sheets had lost Gabe's smell.

As Gabe recovered from the concussion, he'd promised Jesse they would chat. That had yet to come to fruition, and Jesse currently feels stupid for thinking anything would change. They've been in this standstill for much longer than this incident.

The letter of resignation remained unsigned, locked away in his drawer, and Jesse stopped a sob before it got out.

He is too old to cry over a little nightmare, too old to want to go crawl into someone's bed to make it go away.

Even if he gives into the immature desire, his card wouldn't give him what he wants, he knows that. He wouldn't be able to get into Gabe's room anyways, and even if he could, Gabe wouldn't want to see him.

He'll deal with the image burnt in the back of his eyelids of the ocean swallowing him whole by himself. He'll ignore the thing sitting in his chest and pressing him out of bed and he'll do it all just fine.

He breathes in and out and catches another sob.

It's fine. He repeats that to himself in his head.

It's fine.

It's _fine_.

He kicks his legs off the side of the bed and forces himself out of bed, angrily throws on clothes before he stalks out to the hallway.

It's not fine, but you'd have to hold a gun to Jesse's head to get him to say so aloud, and maybe then he'd refuse to say it.

He pads by Gabriel's quarters, and pauses. He stares at the door with a longing expression, his hand brushing over the door handle. The key with its access gone is heavy in his pocket. Maybe it wasn't anymore, a small voice seeking comfort tells him, but Gabriel had never told him otherwise and McCree isn't one to ask.

His feet take him to where he doesn't want to be, but where his chest has been demanding he go. He's familiar with the urge to jump off at the edge of the cliff; wonders if the desire to go into the pool after a traumatic incident almost drowning is anything like it.

He can't ask Angela anyways, so he doesn't spend much more time thinking about it.

It's the Blackwatch pool, and McCree stares down at its waters and wonders why the hell he's here.

Well, it's not _quite_ the Blackwatch pool. That one had been in Rome, and it was blown to bits 2 years back. _This_ pool used to be for the slipstream program, along with Overwatch's space program. When all that got shot down and blown up, literally in the slipstream case, the pool was left behind. Blackwatch agents asked if they could use it for training at some point after they were scattered between the remaining bases, and the transfer was done easily.

The red clock on the wall reads 02:00, and he sighs, rubs his dry skin, wonders why it was itching so bad. He blames it on allergy season, puts it on his mental grocery list to get some local honey, if he's planning on sticking around.

Which he's not yet convinced himself of- but that's a problem for after he resolves this.

For a long while, Jesse stares at the chlorinated pool, wondering what the hell he's doing, exactly.

He's hated the pool for years now. Hated it ever since he had to do his basic training and he got mocked from Zurich to Grand Mesa to Rome for his lack of ability. It wasn't like Deadlock had needed him to learn to swim, and it wasn't like a lone kid could have got lessons in the American Southwest after the Crisis.

Jesse breathes in, and out, and figures that if he does this, maybe, _just_ maybe, things will be answered. Maybe he'll understand why he's being drawn here, why he's being drawn to the ocean, and why, exactly, he had been completely fine when Gabriel had gotten fucked up when _he_ was the one who couldn't swim well.

He wades in, putting one foot in front of the other, gets to the bottom of the staircase where the water's at his chest, and he stands there for a minute, letting the water lap at his skin, being disturbed by him being in there as much as he was disturbed by the experience.

At first, nothing happens. He's just standing there like a dumbass, wet and disappointed, feeling like an idiot for giving into this stupid urge to, fuck, maybe face his fear of drowning?

He breathes in sharply, and sinks down, letting the world be lost under the surface of the water, wanting to dispel the nightmare's blackened version of the experience.

Jesse was terrible at swimming, but there was one thing he was real practiced in, and that was sinking like a rock, and so he does.

He's been lying to himself, he knows it, but he won't admit it. Things aren't fine, and the thing in his chest that vibrates against him the more time he spends here, had been sated for the briefest of moments was worse than ever. He knows what he was playing at here- he was trying to capture that feeling of being caught again.

The hum has calmed, and that's a start.

He closes his eyes, and relaxes, trying to stay under. Morbidly, he wonders if Gabriel will come to his rescue again. But moments pass and no one comes from the darkened reflective surface, no matter how many times McCree looks for him. He's not sure if it's better than the nightmare or not.

(At least in the nightmare, he'd bee able to see Gabriel.)

It's not fine, and it's not been fine for some time.

His bed is empty, his friends don't want him around, and everything he's worked for has come down around him and everyone's squabbling for the bits.

His boss won't communicate, his best friend and ex partner hates him and the other person on base closest to him was dead, and his former partner on his strike team hasn't spoken a word to him in months.

The pool doesn't answer him, just slightly distorts the dark world of the surface, but not enough for McCree to see what he wants in it.

It's then that he realizes that he's been under too long. He releases the air in his throat, concerned as he notices that…he's not breathing. He's not struggling for air.

The strange sensation from the nightmare tugs his hand towards his neck, and he freezes as he feels skin on his neck move as he takes a long shuddering breath. Gills.

He pops out of the water, feeling them in shock, confusion.

Well, _that's_ new.

Where'd that come from?

Jesse tries square it with what he remembers of his family, but can't really think of anything.

He sinks into the water, struggling to breathe on the surface for a moment until the gills are covered by water once more.

Jesse leans back in the water, and floats, looking towards the ceiling.

He's never heard of anything like this. He doesn't have a family to call for answers.

"Yanno, when I asked for an answer, I didn't mean like this." He mutters to himself, before closing his eyes and follows the feeling in his gut, willing himself to sink again, and then forcing himself to swim into the deeper area of the water.

He doesn't get it; he's always been so scared of it. The idea of it has always terrified him and Ana couldn't get him to dive into the water period.

But suddenly, Jesse's not afraid anymore.

The water is meters above his head and the pressure should, by all means, be crushing him, holding him down. And yet…he's _never_ felt so free, not since he'd been caught running in Deadlock and he'd sold his soul to Gabriel Reyes to avoid prison.

He doesn't get what is happening, it's not…natural, and he's not swimming. Instead, he's sunk at the bottom of the deepest part of the pool. He's not cold, though, staring up at the waters surface, wondering what the hell was going on- wondering when the dream would come to an end.

Jesse can see his hands perfectly, they've become clawed; the fingernails sharpened to fine points. His legs are numb beneath him but he's not there yet, he's not let go of feeling them. He suspects that if he did…something would happen, something more disturbing than this.

He looks down in spite of himself, and when he does, he gets some vague sense of understanding.

His feet have flattened out considerably, and something dotting down his body gleamed in the dim red light, shining back at him, tempting him further.

To just let go.

Jesse doesn't give it another chance to tempt him, scrambling out of the water, gills falling away after a few moments of choking on air, the scales vanishing into thin air.

The thing in his chest is suddenly absent, and that scares McCree more than it irritated him when he could feel it. It's been answered. It no longer needs to call him.

The thought alone scares Jesse into going back to his room, crawling into bed with the lights on, and wondering what in the world is happening to him.

XXXXX

The next morning, he's exhausted, but the routine's the only thing that hasn't changed about Blackwatch. Laps first thing in the morning- Gabriel and him usually did them together before the other folk came in.

_"You know you'll never beat me, right?" Gabriel teased in Jesse's memory, and Jesse had teased right back._

" _Someone's gotta keep you on your toes."_

For the past several days he's done this by himself, as Gabriel had messaged him to tell him he'd needed time off for the concussion. He half expected the same to happen when no one came in at the scheduled time. After a moment, Jesse accepts that with whatever had happened between him and Gabriel, he isn't important enough for Gabriel to message what Jesse could already infer.

Jesse starts running, his lips chapped, but focuses on the wall in front of him. He turns the corner, putting one foot in front of the other, before he comes to a stop, stumbling slightly as it took him a moment to see him.

"Wasting your advantage, McCree?" Gabriel calls across the field, voice slightly teasing as he slides into his running shoes. Jesse doesn't have to be warned twice, immediately forcing his body back into motion.

It's hard to not grin, but something right finally slides back into place when Gabriel starts running behind him, letting McCree have the start of the race and reminding Jesse that, in spite of how lost he feels, he's still got purpose.

Gabriel Reyes is still behind him. His commander is still with him.

The race is fair, at first. It's only on the last lap that Gabriel kicks himself into high gear, and they pass the finish line together. McCree pants as he rolls his eyes at Gabriel.

"Really, boss?" He asks, shaking his head.

"Not bad McCree." Gabriel assesses dryly. "You _almost_ managed it."

"Yanno, if you had _told_ me that you'd be late, I wouldn't have been surprised to see you."

Gabe tsks, and Jesse's heart twinges at the affectionate tone. "Excuses, excuses." He shrugs. "You losing your touch, Jesse?"

"You're losing yours, maybe." Jesse fires back, playful. "Late enough to almost let me win? Should I tell Morrison about that."

The friendliness faded, and Gabriel's face was squarely put back in a scowl. "You don't report to Jack." He mutters. "Sure as hell not about me."

"It was a joke, Reyes." McCree feels the distance between them settle back in, and lets his own grin fall. "You never came to talk to me about what happened, sir." He points out, matching Gabriel's tone tit for tat.

He might be imagining it, but he's convinced that Gabriel winces at the sir.

Good, he thinks darkly. Two are needed to tango.

"I wasn't aware I needed to report my health status to my agent." Gabriel responds, irritable, and Jesse's eyes narrow.

"I was jus' gonna say _thanks_ for hauling my sorry ass out of the fuckin' ocean so I didn't drown, but it seems you've already gone and forgotten."

The flinch isn't imagined this time, and Jesse gets some sick satisfaction over the farce of a relationship between them.

"You don't need to thank me for it, McCree." Gabriel brushes him off. "Anyone who could have seen that would have done the same." McCree shrugs, letting Gabriel do that. "…How have you been holding up?" He asks, belatedly, and they both know that it's too late now.

"Fine." McCree snips. "Wasn't aware I needed to _report_ my health status to my Commander after medical cleared me."

Gabriel didn't say anything to that, and McCree moves towards the weights, not bothering to hold his breath.

He's not gonna get an apology out of Gabriel. Gabriel doesn't _do_ apologies. He's known this the whole decade he's known the son of a bitch. It's why his lovely wife left him, which Jesse thinks spitefully in Gabriel's general direction as the man follows him to the weights.

When he and the _commander_ had argued or disagreed before, usually they (meaning Jesse) just let it go and move on. But this was personal. This had crossed the invisible line between Jesse and Agent McCree and Gabe and Commander Reyes, just like their relationship had years ago, and the problem had only deepened.

Bitterly, he wonders if the other shoe had dropped and this is just going to be their new normal.

Jesse can't let this go this time. Or more accurately, he won't. They can't have it both ways, and both of them knew that. Gabriel had trusted him enough to have it one way- commander and effective captain of Blackwatch, equals and bedmates that became lovers between Venice and London.

Whatever had crawled up Gabe's ass and died there had taken that way of loving with it, and now the pendulum had swung the other way. Gabe's not Gabe anymore. He's Commander Reyes. Jesse's bed is empty and his eternal access to Gabriel's office was revoked and he's not tested to see if it was ever reinstated.

He was only ever Captain in theory. Never in paperwork. But he'd never have thought Gabriel had been the type to say that in an argument.

If this is how Gabriel wants it, then Jesse McCree is happy to become the spiteful son of a bitch he'd been as Agent McCree all over again.

Gabriel Reyes isn't an apology type of person, but Jesse McCree's bad side is somewhere few like to stay and fewer get the chance to do so.

Their time in the gym ends as other agents roll in, and Jesse and Gabriel seamlessly broke apart to their teams. If Gabriel was going to say anything, nothing came out, and McCree had been put in his place hard last time he'd pushed his luck there.

He'd been kicked out, his access revoked, and that had been that.

Maybe the only stupid thing was that McCree kept hoping that maybe, just _maybe,_ Gabriel would change something. For him.

He sarcastically thinks to himself that that was something out of a fairytale.

XXXXX

Days roll in with training and out with nightmares that leave him itching for relief and the comfort of a body that's never there. He goes to the pool every night and just sinks. He's mostly got the hang of the gills, but the rest of him takes more time. Every day where Gabriel doesn't budge and they're as stuck as ever, the resignation letter calls to him louder and the lack of ground peels away another layer of skin.

A month later and he's finally lost his legs in the water, and he breathes out in shock. He'd gotten used to the sight of his scales, but the way his body had elongated was unique.

The pool, as deep as it was, wasn't big enough. It was just a pool, and the itch was back, steadily growing, pushing him to the edge again.

To the ocean, and he isn't sure if he's ready to do that.

As for…advice, he'd not gone to anyone about it in the end.

Commander Reyes is too busy with his project with Moira, and Jesse hasn't tried accessing his private quarters since his access was revoked during their fight. He didn't dare talk about it in his office, as Moira lurks there like a shadow. Not to mention, he trusts her about as far as he can outpace Gabriel- which is to say, he's got a negative amount of trust in her- and Gabe will want him to talk to her.

Angela doesn't care about him. The fact still slaps him in the face when he thinks about it, and so even shaking with scales coating his legs he resists the urge to knock on her door in the middle of the night, hand caught mid air.

Genji still is avoiding him, and McCree didn't bother pursuing that.

Ana Amari is still dead, and her daughter is still not returning his calls. He gets it, he does, but he really needs her advice now. He'll never say as much in the voicemails he leaves, he doesn't want to leave anything heavy on her shoulders.

Maybe he should stop calling her before he heads out. That way, she won't think she was the thing standing in the way of him leaving.

He groans, because that's a whole added couple days before he submits to the inevitable: that he and Gabriel just aren't going work out, and its time for him to go, to move on and live some kind of life after Gabriel.

At that dark thought, he floats to the surface and lays there, water lapping against his tail. He closes his eyes and tries to think of what that looks like.

Jesse fails.

Gabriel is his _home_ , his rock, the man he sold his soul to in Deadlock, the one that had given Jesse a whole new direction and had changed every single aspect of himself in that period. He'd grown inside Jesse and irradiated the cells that had been the man before, and now every cell in him, every single ounce of him, it was connected to that asshole who he was currently in the middle of the most horrific mess that they had cooked up, together, from the moment Gabe had shot Antonio out a goddamned building until they were shouting at each other at the top of their lungs and getting nowhere with each other anymore.

He used a finger to rub circles into the waters surface, and shook his head as he thought of Gabriel, whatever he was doing now.

Did he expect Jesse to leave after all their arguments? Would he care?

How long would it take to notice that Jesse was gone?

(Some traitorous thing inside of him whispers that if Gabriel hadn't seen him fall off, no one would have noticed he was gone for hours. Maybe days. Maybe they'd have gone into his room, found the resignation notice, and never looked.

Would anyone give a passing thought to Jesse McCree if 5 or 6 years down the line he never showed his face again, or would they all just assume he'd gotten away clean and wasn't dead at the bottom of the sea?)

Jesse glances at the red clock hopelessly like it'd show him the future, and he sighs. He breathes in through his nose, closing his eyes and sinking down again.

It's almost 2 in the morning, meaning he should start his nightly ritual of going back to his room, and it starts with the arduous labor of getting two functioning legs again and forgetting the sensation of the tail.

It was easiest to do it at the bottom, the pressure of the water mimicking the sensation he'd felt all his life, and strongest here, in Gibraltar, at the waters edge.

His back hits the bottom when the surface breaks above. His eyes shoot open in panic, and Genji is suddenly there, swimming downwards, grabbing McCree's arm and yanking him clear to the surface, throwing them both over the edge.

McCree has to toss himself back in while Genji stares in shock, having seen something that obviously stunned him.

Maybe it was the tail, McCree thinks sarcastically as he gulps in breaths, having to focus to put himself back together in the human way.

"McCree?" Genji asks, tilting his head forwards as he rubs his temple over the mask. The robotic voice seeks to grate Jesse's nerves, and it's succeeding wonderfully.

"Hello, Genji," He coughs before he spits out water, grabbing the edge and hauling himself upright, holding himself there, naked as the day he was born. "Trying to play hero?" He mocks the new Overwatch hero.

"I thought you were trying to drown yourself." Genji coldly remarks, suddenly cagey. "Didn't have to worry about that, apparently."

McCree snorts. "If only. This is a recent development." He bites back, not in the mood for Genji's nonsense. "Thought you weren't Blackwatch now. Why you here?"

"Angela recommended I get some swimming practice for Havana." He dully explains, not having to mention the metallic bits on him that could serve to make it difficult. "Winston required the main pool, so I elected to come here."

"Did you get Reyes' permission?" Jesse asks, slightly salty, and Genji's head turns away.

"No one ever is here at this hour anyways." He mutters, irritable, in lieu of an answer. McCree finds himself accepting it, because he doesn't want to call Reyes in anyways.

"Well, I'm about to be gone anyways, so don't bother asking him now." McCree grabs the towel as he climbs out. "You ain't gonna tell anyone 'bout all this, are you?" He asks lowly, to make sure, wrapping his towel around his waist

"I will not breathe a word of it." Genji agrees, crossing his arms, waiting for McCree to storm out before he makes another motion.

Jesse doesn't look back, and Genji is left in the pool, the wetness getting under his new chrome armor and finally getting against what's left of his skin.

Genji's shoulders droop as the doors swing a few more times behind him before going still, and he wonders what he's given up by being so cold to Jesse after he's left Blackwatch.

His rock after joining is sharp now in a way that it'd never been before. And he knows- while Angela had been his doctor, the one who fixed a lot of things for Genji and had helped him adjust, McCree had been his rock. The de facto captain of Blackwatch had been the one to lay it all out straight, while keeping his humor in tact. While Jesse hadn't always been tactful, he'd never compromised himself or buckled underneath Genji's anger.

It had been the most appealing thing about him.

But now, there isn't a friendly smile on his face, or an easygoing demeanor around him that makes him easy to be around. There are no joking comments or friendly ribbing. There's only darkness in his eyes and bitterness on his tongue and all the harshness of the desert he'd come from sanding away the resolve inside Genji and leaving behind the monster Reyes found in the desert and the one Overwatch's enemies had come to fear.

And he'd chosen this. Genji sucks in a breath as he leans his head back. He'd stepped away when he'd left Overwatch, let go of his rock to try and move on. Genji wasn't good with Jesse the way Jesse was with him- the more he tried the more he seemed to get under McCree's skin. Genji wasn't what McCree wanted, and the more he tried to get close, the more it seemed to backfire against him, and the ache in Genji's chest, the one that was stuck under all the metal and chrome and scar tissue hurt more.

His anger and bitterness and hurt was toxic, and it frequently hurt the ones he cared about, and McCree had gotten bitten more than once. So he'd tried to let go.

Yet, when he'd seen Jesse sink below the surface, he'd been gripped with the realization that no matter how hard he had tried to forget it and move on, he still loved Jesse McCree.

He removes his mask, and wonders where he'd gone so completely wrong, that in spite of how hard he'd tried to avoid this, McCree had turned into something exactly like him. He's poisoned Jesse, and he's not moved on, and everything is worse now.

McCree looked angry, he was clearly hurting, he was alone, and he looked scared, and Genji can't stab that sympathetic feeling inside him. His dragon curls around him and whispers softly that she'd heard stories of the merfolk, but it was a different experience altogether to see one.

He wishes, not for the first time, that he'd ignored the handsome cowboy with the good ass and sweet brown eyes and charming smile in the ramen shop.

Wishes, not for the last time, that he'd been more careful with his anger in the aftermath of what his brother had did, that he had spared McCree, his rock, of his fury. That he'd not let go but instead had let him in before.

He's long known that in spite of the magic he was endowed with, that life wasn't like the stories his father had told him as a boy, and he allows himself to childishly wish that perhaps, life could be a little closer to it.

Life has yet to answer him, and Genji isn't disappointed when the storm leaves entirely, and he has to actually bother with swimming practice.

XXXXX

Jesse refuses to admit it to himself, but the encounter Genji has left him sick with anxiety, and that meant that it was past time to go itch the issue at hand. He swallows the bile that had sunk into his throat and threatened to burn at his innards, and threw off his uniform and got into something a little more comfortable.

He wasn't in the mood for another person to discover him, and so he actually took the time to climb out the side of the building. He puts in his Blackwatch codes into the door, thinks nothing of it. He did this for smokes in the past, before, when Angela still cared about him.

But now she doesn't and McCree has a new addiction of sorts that needs a hit.

The door opens, and he climbs down the ladder to the grotto below.

As it was well beyond sunset, the civilian Ecopoint folks had left the facilities ages ago. That just left the sea, the boats, and Jesse McCree, stripping off his civilian clothes so as not to rip _another_ set of boxers.

He sinks into the water slowly, breathing in with his mouth, out with his nose, walking into the shallows and letting the water overtake him. In with his mouth, out with his nose.

Jesse hates that, even after all this time, the way that the waves hit his skin makes him want to climb back ashore, get dressed and leave all this behind. The pool is a much safer place to do this, his long ingrained instincts scream.

He takes another step forward, and takes another breath in through his mouth, out through his nose.

He walks forward until he's up to his chin, the waves lapping at him calmly in the cave.

Welcoming him back.

He'd partly forgotten how right the ocean had felt in the blissful moments between consciousness and the blackness of the water, ignored how it had soothed those aching, gaping, oozing wounds. Now he shakes his head and tries to focus, he doesn't have the time to think about how good the ocean feels on him. He's here strictly for business.

He almost chokes, but breathes in through his mouth and thinks the remainder of his chant.

Out through his gills.

The breath escaped him, and McCree shudders as he continues to move forward. The ocean has been calling him all of his life and he has finally answered today, eyes half-lidded as he allows it to entrance him and pull him under.

The crown of his head slips under the next crash of waves, and this time he's not confined by the meager space of the pool. Jesse McCree can't swim but this time it's not by any deliberate movement that he smoothly glides forward, out of the cave, and into the vast nothing that has caught him well and good.

By the time Jesse comes to his senses, he's undoubtedly miles away from base, in open water, heading east into the Mediterranean, and Jesse McCree has never felt this _alive_. This isn't just him scratching a little mosquito bite anymore- he knows better. This is more like he'd slathered himself in aloe vera after a full-body sunburn had turned him into a lobster.

And McCree isn't graceful when he does it, but he throws himself out of the water, and lets it catch him on the way down, the adrenaline coursing through him as he hoots out energy that had driven him to do this. He laughs as he spreads himself out fully, wondering if this is why everywhere but the desert had always felt too damn small.

He sinks into the water, laying there floating, feeling freer than he had in a long time.

His tail appreciates the space, and feels like a real part of him for the first time in a good while.

Red and black scales trail up the magnificently long beast attached to himself, and he can't help himself as he swirls up to measure it, easily catching it's end and looping around, weightless, only vaguely bothered by the sensation of rolling without ground beneath him.

Jesse places a forearm against the delicate looking fins, and is vaguely surprised when they're tougher and more meaty than he gave them credit for. The fin is at least double the length of his forearm, and prolly has a few added inches on that. He whistles, the sound actually coming out harsh and loud in the water and immediately flinches, releasing his fin.

Something childish bites at his innards as he recalls a story from his older sister about mermaids that could sing and change the hearts of men with their magic, and Jesse knows that even though he's never really sang- too many said it sounded stupid on base, no one was around to hear.

He opens his mouth, closes his eyes, and releases a low tone.

The water hums around him, answering him, and encouraging him.

He lets the sound get louder, and louder, the vibration that had been caught in his chest his whole damn life suddenly being released, before a hand reaches out of the darkness and is slapped over his mouth.

The water stills, and Jesse comes back to himself, relaxing before he struggles against the hand.

"Uh-uh." A voice tells him off, clear as anything in the water. "No singing this close to the surface, friend. You're going to draw unnecessary attention and a hurricane- I'm sorry about your relationship issues, but _singing_ won't resolve any of it here."

McCree gargles water, and the man- handsome as anything, though far younger than Gabriel- raises an eyebrow in question. "You can't speak?" He asks, concerned, before McCree gestures to the surface. The other eyebrow skyrockets with the first, and the man shakes his head in surprise, blinking. "Alright, then."

The stranger, with his bright blue scales standing out against his dark skin, locs floating about in the water releases Jesse, and they both head up.

It only takes a minute to break the surface, and they float, the stranger clearly waiting for whatever it was Jesse was going to say. McCree coughs, breathing in through his gills, out through his mouth, in with his _nose_ , out with his mouth, and find his voice again.

"Didn't know that I _could_ speak underwater." He coughs up water, and the other merman's eyebrows jump.

"Didn't _know_ you- how long have you been a merman, exactly?" The strangers asks, clearly joking in bewilderment, but McCree rolls his head from side to side.

"Bout a month and a half." He sheepishly admits, and the other man is flabbergasted at the words, mouth dropping open.

"You're not joking." He says, blinking his eyes and pushing his soaked locs back out of his face. "I've always been told that it's something you're born with, and that there's no way to turn someone into one of us." He pushes Jesse's tail lightly with his own, the sudden touch sending shivers down Jesse's spine. "Unless…no. You don't look like that." He shakes his head, and they bob with a particularly strong wave. "My name's Baptiste, siren, pleasure to meet you."

McCree balks. "It's Jesse, and- I ain't a siren." He disagrees, and Baptiste gives him an unimpressed look as he tilts his head forward to look down at Jesse's tail again.

"Which one of us is the freshly finned fish, and which one of us has been doing this for longer?"

McCree doesn't say anything, and Baptiste nods. "Right. Well, my boat's not far." He pats Jesse's shoulder. "Come, sit with me. I'm sure you have questions." Baptiste sinks beneath the waves again, and McCree follows, the transformation happening quick enough that he can make out Baptiste shaking his head and muttering, " _About a month,_ " In mocking French.

XXXXX

Baptiste makes it all look easy, sliding in and out of his form like he was just removing layers of clothing while he climbed onto the boat. McCree is less practiced, and Baptiste has to help, and so he hauls Jesse out of the water. The tail takes a few minutes to fade, but by then Baptiste is already dressed and has handed Jesse a towel expectantly.

"So, no clothes allowed, huh?" McCree asks, and the other man shrugs.

"I have a friend who wears a dress when she goes in, but it's not that big of an issue." Baptiste shrugs as he sits down on a bench, looking out to the darkened horizon, to where the moon was hanging low in the sky.

"Thanks, for the help." McCree murmurs as he gets up. "I've been…admittedly, kinda flying blind here."

"Swimming blind, my friend." Baptiste joked. "And you've still not given me an explanation for how you've only _just_ learned this about yourself, and I'd love to hear one."

"I fell off a cliff, didn't drown. Kept having these…nightmares, 'til I got into a pool and realized I could breathe underwater." He explains, sheepish as he recounts stumbling through the discoveries, scratching the remaining scales as they flaked off his skin. "It sorta…happened, bit by bit."

"So, you didn't change anything about yourself." Baptiste asks, skeptical, and McCree nods. "You've got an interesting accent. Where are you from?"

"You ain't gonna believe this, but… New Mexico, prolly." He watches as Baptiste's eyebrows go up again, and he laughs.

"So not only are you a fish out of water, but you were taken to the one place you'd never hear the ocean calling you." Baptiste shakes his head as he laughs lowly, handing him a bowl of food. "Sombra will find it incredibly funny that _you're_ what she's been sensing. She was so _concerned_ when a siren entered our little bottleneck of the strait out of nowhere, and it turns out that it's just a fish who thought he was human his whole life."

"Y'all ain't gonna hurt me, are you?" He asks, uneasy, hand frozen in the bowl of trail mix.

Baptiste shakes his head vehemently. "No, of course not. We were far more worried that you'd hurt us. Sirens are notoriously territorial creatures, and they take a lot of territory, but you just appeared once, and then vanished from the strait. We were wondering where you were coming and going, but now it all makes sense. A land shark." He shakes his head.

"If you were scared of me, why on earth did you slap a hand over my mouth," McCree asks, irritated as he rubs his body, willing away the sudden sensation of itchy dryness cracking over his skin.

" _Because_ ," Baptiste takes a bite of the trail mix as he rolls his wrist in the air, accentuating his words. "You were about to sing, and from the opening notes, it was one hell of a storm system you were calling in." He explains, tapping his fingers against the metal railing awkwardly. "Sorry about your boyfriend, and really, all the relationships in your life. You were about to just scream, and from the content, I could tell you at least have a life on shore."

"You got all that from a hum?" McCree asks, and Baptiste sighs.

"Right, you're new at this. It wasn't from the hum, per say." He rolls his hand carefully. "More from the vibrations in the water that you put out. You were crying to the ocean and the ocean transmitted that far and wide."

Immediately, he got the image of a dolphin. "I can fuckin' echolocate?" He asks, feeling stupid when Baptiste tilts his head forward in an unimpressed look, breathing out a short breath from his nose as he considers how to answer that. Jesse would feel a bit bad, as it seems that was a dumb question, but he doesn't have anyone else who could have told him.

He leans back and nods. "More or less, yes." Baptiste allows. "We all can echolocate," And Jesse lets the _we_ wash over him again, suddenly feeling much less alone. "But you are a siren, and can do so with devastating results." He raps his fingers on his boat. "And _this_ is a pretty nice boat. I'd rather not see a storm destroy it."

"My sister only said that sirens could change the hearts of men." He runs a hand through his wet hair, trying to get it off his neck, and Baptiste's head tilts slightly, his locs falling to the other side of his head.

"Your sister?" He prompts, and McCree shrugs, turning away as he darkens at the memory.

"My folks died when I was young, Ma when I was real small, Pa a bit later, in the crisis. Had a sister, she was a bit older than me." He trails off, closing his eyes. "She died too. Got sick."

Baptiste gives him a look of… understanding, and he puts a hand over McCree's own. "Well, it sounds like you had a family with some story to them, but…sounds like after they were gone, no one was around to tell you." He says, empathetic. "I am also an orphan. I grew up as one of thousands in Haiti." Baptiste leans back into the boat, letting the ocean rock it slightly. "Being from an island, though…our kind knew one another, and took care of what we could." He drinks some water, before offering McCree the bottle.

McCree takes it, feeling gloomy all of a sudden, having avoided thinking about her for years now, and drinks. He suddenly gulps it down, the dryness fading away as he became suddenly, incredibly parched as Baptiste chuckles at him, offering him another bottle.

Baptiste gets up and stretches. "It's late, but it has been nice to meet you, Jesse." He offers Jesse a hand, one that Jesse takes unquestioningly and shakes.

"It's… it's nice to not be alone." He carefully agrees.

"You've never been alone." Baptiste claps his shoulder, trying to cheer him up. "Here, I'll give you my number. If you need someone to give you assistance, land shark, don't hesitate to reach out." He hands McCree a card with a shiny lamination on it.

"Waterproof." He notes, absently as he reads, _Jean-Baptiste Augustin, Combat Medic,_ along with a series of numbers. "That's helpful."

"Definitely is." Baptiste nods. "I'd waterproof everything of yours in the future. Makes it easier to pull out this trick without worrying about our human things." He stretches, gesturing up to the wheel of the ship. "Now, where would you like me to drop you off, Jesse?"

XXXXX

He exits the boat on a doc in Gibraltar, and Baptiste waves as he leaves, McCree putting the card in the little necklace Baptiste gave him for ease of access. The second the man was out of sight, he dropped back into the dark water of the dock, and shoved the towel into his bag, letting the transformation happen as he began a doggie paddle that quickly turned into a rushed swim back to base.

The night hours had started to come to a close, and he'd been gone for hours without ever realizing it. He'd swum 20 miles into the Mediterranean, and his body was definitely feeling it now.

Baptiste had advised him to stick to practicing in the pool- having gotten a good laugh out of hearing McCree hadn't learned to swim until he was in his 20s. McCree doesn't disagree now, his whole body aching in ways he'd not known possible.

His tail does what it needs to do, though, and he winds back up in the grotto in the early morning, crawling out of the water as rays of dawn's light peak through the cave.

He puts back on his human clothes, drinks the water bottle Baptiste had insisted on giving him, having lectured him on the importance of getting rehydrated unless he wants a scale infection or his skin to start flaking off on all of his clothes.

Neither of those options sound pleasant to McCree, so he downs the whole bottle before he heads back upstairs, drying his hair with the towel as he tosses the other, soaked one into the laundry hamper for the Ecopoint folks to sort out.

He looks out towards the sea as he presses the key. His comm is undisturbed, no new messages on it, and he would feel lonely, if Baptiste's words weren't still swimming through his veins and filling him with new warmth.

He wasn't alone. There were others like him.

Even if he didn't have Gabriel… even if he didn't have anyone left on base. He had something now.

Without thinking about it too hard, he messages his commander that he'll miss their gym session- he'd done swimming practice instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is loved and appreciated ! See y'all next wednesday.


	3. Hook, Line and...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I added an extra chapter since I'm already guessing I'm going to need extra word count to finish this.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's been reading! I'm glad that y'all are enjoying this.

He's first caught in the middle of the day, long after he's showered and removed the feel of the salt from his skin and has returned to whatever façade he was struggling to maintain.

Jesse closes his gun locker, and is only a little surprised to see a silver mask on the other side, waiting to pounce.

"Why didn't you come to me?" Genji asks, seeming to demand the information.

Jesse looks down, gritting his teeth. He knows what he means, knows what Genji saw down there. Genji and him sit there in McCree's stubborn silence, and Jesse can't find the will to look at him.

"McCree, my family passes down the ability to summon dragons, literal _dragons_ , and you didn't come to me? Why didn't you? Who else could have understood any part of this?" Genji prods, horribly, awfully logical about it, whispering lowly as he tried to be discrete.

McCree, after the mess in the pool with Genji, had returned the favor Genji had been doing for him in kind. He'd avoided him for the past week, and that obviously had lead to this confrontation.

He balls up his hands, and gathers his resolve.

"I didn't go to anyone, alright, Genji." He grinds out, hurting and frustrated and ready to burst. "I didn't go to _anyone,_ least of all you. I am a grown man capable of handling all kinds of things. I have to be able to handle this too."

A scoff, and it's like Genji lit his fuse. "You couldn't suck up your own stupid _pride_ long enough to talk to the only other person with experience?" Genji says that last thing and it's enough to make McCree explode.

"It wasn't my goddamned pride that kept me from reaching out!" That shuts Genji up real good, and McCree seethes, having been boiling in this longer than he's known he was hurt. "You n' I ain't spoken for months, not since you left Blackwatch. You haven't breathed a goddamned word to me about _anything_. You and _Angie_ have your thing now, and fuck if I was gonna bother you with my fuck up self when you've been _avoiding me_." He shoves Genji away from him, shaking and not wanting him to know.

But that well of hurt just doesn't seem to have a bottom, and McCree continues, reeling his anger back in to a simmer instead of the full boil that Genji had gotten him to with just a few words. "I've been handling this on my own, and I'll _continue_ to. Y'all have done a fantastic job of leaving me alone, I'd to ruin your _great work_ because of a mild problem you and I share."

He storms out again, bringing his mood with him, noticing Angela Ziegler watching him, her skin pale and her blue eyes worried, and he just walks faster, brushing past them both.

He's fine.

It's fine.

He was already planning on leaving anyways.

XXXXX

That night, he goes early to the pool. He knows Genji and Angela's nightly meetups happen around midnight, and so that's when he removes his clothes and sinks into the water, stepping forward and not bothering to fear being unable to breathe, letting the transformation take over.

This is the first time he's consciously decided to avoid folks, and it feels unfamiliar on his skin. Perhaps it's not wholly unfamiliar, but it just feels like he's long since outgrown it. The old skin doesn't fit him anymore, squeezing him too tightly with the whispering voice in the back of his mind chanting, leave, leave, _leave_.

(Cut your losses and run.

You'd given these people everything you had and it's not enough.)

He lets the sob escape his throat, swallowed by the water, except that it's not. The entire pool shakes with the force of his power, but he doesn't realize that's what it is.

He's lost in his grief and his loss of purpose and he screams with all the force he's been using to hold all of himself together.

The water sloshes around him wildly, and McCree is thrown right back to the surface, hitting the water with a harsh slap, and as he swims to the surface, he watches in horror as objects fall from the walls and the building shakes wildly.

An earthquake? He sees the wall crack in one place, the water from the pool still sloshing around, using it to get out of the pool before he'd be trapped due to the drop in water level.

He had never been on the ground in this form, and it truly was something out of one of Fareeha's fairytale novels. Next to the pool, it was clear that his tail was at least 6 feet long by itself, and probably longer. He only had a moment to stare at it before the ground quaked again, and he coughed to have working lungs again, shouting a desperate, "Stop!"

And the ground listens.

He lays there, dazed for a long moment, before he flops onto his back, breathing hard.

He turns to the door, and sees a familiar face, and groans.

Genji is pale, holding tight to the doorframe, and his mask is gone.

"McCree," He breathes, voice soft in that way it was when someone was caught between being amazed and being terrified, "What did you _do?_ "

Jesse's tail vanishes back into two separate legs, and he breathes out hard, rolling his head to look back up at the ceiling. "Mighta just… caused a mandatory evacuation," He sarcastically assesses, and Genji just breathes out an aborted laugh.

The energy feels completely drained out of Jesse, though, and he flops one hand over, grabs his towel, and covers his privates in attempt to give himself decency. "Genji," He absently calls. "Think I'm about to pass out."

"What?" Genji perks up, disturbed, moving towards him quickly. "Jesse, _no_ , you're _naked_ , don't you _dare_ pass out…" Genji's words gradually wind down to a soft whisper, and the word goes dark and soft around him, and McCree is so very tired with how things have been.

He passes out on the floor when the alarms finally are able to go off and pierce his skull like a bullet, knocking him out cold.

XXXXX

Jesse wakes with sunrise, which is a bit odd. His room is deep within Blackwatch's Gibraltar quarters, and it'd been ages since he'd fallen asleep in Gabriel's windowed office.

He feels the breeze on his face, and grunts in confusion. Something's wrong, and his head feels a bit too foggy to recall what exactly happened. "Mission gone wrong?" He asks whoever must be with him.

"Blackwatch isn't allowed on missions still," Genji's voice, clear as a bell, rings out and Jesse huffs, blinking awake. "Good morning, McCree."

He rolls over, exhausted, and is greeted with an odd scene. They're all outside at what looks to be the local resort area underneath some kind of tent, but they're far from alone. In fact, they're completely surrounded by people from the medical wing. Angela's buzzing around in a blind panic, trying to keep people supported.

"What the fuck…?" He asks, voice low as he looks around.

"I could ask you the same thing," Genji keeps his voice low as his eyes go to Jesse. "The Watchpoint was forced to evacuate following a freak earthquake in the middle of the night, and we've all been forced inland due to a tsunami watch."

McCree groans, sits up. "That rings a bell." He says, remembering the experience of the water answering his scream with a vibration that shook the pool water out of the pool, and had caused an earthquake.

And then he'd shouted stop, and the forces of nature bent to his will.

"Ow." He hisses as he sits up, clutching his head. "Can I have some water?" He asks, and Genji hands him a bottle.

Genji considers him as he gulps it down. "Unusual to see you asking for water, McCree. Dr. Ziegler warned me to make sure you didn't get your hands on any alcohol."

"No alcohol?" A voice that was vaguely familiar made Jesse and Genji look up, and Jesse's jaw almost dropped as a handsome young man approaches them both, holding a two glasses of sangria, offering Jesse one of them. "Now that's no way to handle a natural disaster."

"Who are you, exactly?" Genji asks, body language dripping hostility, haunches raised as he gets between the two of them.

Baptiste raises his eyebrows at the possessive attitude, and McCree groans as he gets to his feet. "Genji, it's okay." He assures, looking to Baptiste and figuring out a quick story. "Meet my boyfriend, Baptiste."

If the quick, stupid reason for knowing him shocks Baptiste, he doesn't show it in the easy going smile he's got on his face.

"Pleasure to finally meet a friend of Jesse's." Baptiste says cheerfully, going around the stunned cyborg to give Jesse a warm kiss on the cheek, and offering Genji a hand to shake.

He stares at the hand for a long moment, before shaking it, his deep brown eyes squinting at the newcomer, scrutinizing him. "I wasn't aware you had friends off base," Genji's cold voice could cut lesser men down, but Jesse shrugs.

"I've had time to make some, recently." He wraps an arm around Baptiste, and the other man mirrors the gesture. "Dunno if you noticed, but we've been kinda grounded." He tilts his head against Baptiste's, and the other man pats his back strongly, chuckling.

"It's so nice that you get the day off, cowboy." Baptiste knocks the rim of his hat slightly, and McCree chuckles.

"Oh, am I free to go then?" He turns to Angela Ziegler, the woman's grip on her clipboard suspiciously tight. "Commander Reyes nearby to confirm that?" He asks, and the woman points to another tent nearby. Jesse waves to Genji as he sips his sangria, hiding his grimace behind the lip of the metal cup.

Neither of them says more, and Baptiste chuckles as they walk through the medical area.

"This was my doing, then?" He whispers as they walk the pathway between the temporary setup during the evacuation drill.

Baptiste nods, humming as he pats Jesse's shoulder a bit too strongly. "Boyfriend, huh?" He asks, curious. "Was that your ex?"

"The pretty blonde is." Jesse explains, making sure no one was around before they disentangle from the other. "The man's just…an ex friend."

"He seemed jealous." Baptiste amusedly raises an eyebrow, and McCree rolls his eyes.

"I can assure you that he ain't interested in me." He promises, cricking his neck. "That's just his personality. Had his mask off around a stranger. He's avoided me like the plague for months now."

Baptiste gives him a pitying look, and McCree shrugs. "Can't help it." He rolls his shoulders, and settles in, before walking towards the area Angela had pointed out. "The current problem's coming up." He mutters, and Baptiste chuckles.

"The current problem?" Baptiste hums, wrapping his arm around him. "Commander Reyes," he drawls out the name, and Jesse nods. They walk into the tent together, and McCree looks to Reyes and Morrison, the two of them sitting with Gabriel's head in his hands, and Jack rubbing his temple, staring at the entrance to the tent.

His gaze is distant for a second, before he focuses on Jesse and Baptiste. Blue eyes bulge and his jaw drops, as Jesse gives the man an absolutely shit eating grin. "McCree?" He asks, and Gabriel coughs up coffee that he'd obviously just taken a sip of.

"Commander Morrison," Jesse nods towards him respectfully. "Sorry for intruding, but this morning has not gone smoothly and I needed to speak with Commander Reyes."

Jack's gaze flicks between Gabriel and Jesse, before he refocuses. "You may speak freely, McCree," He reminds, voice low. "You _are_ , essentially, Captain of Blackwatch."

Gabriel's gaze remains lowered, and Jesse shrugs. "It was never officially signed into the books, sir, and Commander Reyes has revoked most of my privileges." He explains, feigning resignation, and Jack's eyes bulge again, not hiding the astonished look he sent Gabriel's way, the man seeming to find the base building layout more interesting than ever.

"Well, that's a _pity_." Jack stresses, glaring at Gabriel with an intensity that most people would find frightening. "We could have used your help this morning with the evacuation, and I'm _certain_ we could use your leadership skills now."

" _Agent_ McCree couldn't have helped us this morning anyways," Gabriel finally speaks, coughing to reassert his control. "He was found unconscious following the earthquake. Agent Shimada reported to medical that debris had apparently hit his head."

"It actually wasn't debris." Jesse explains, sheepish. "I was thrown out of the pool. Trying to get better at swimming, after the accident last month."

"Accident?" Morrison prompts, his grip on the pen in his hand white, the pen breaking under pressure.

"Oh, did Commander Reyes not report the incident?" He asks, sighing as he gave another facetious accommodating smile. "I took a tumble off the cliff, hit the water at a bad angle- even if I hadn't, I'm a bad swimmer. Reyes had to dive after me." He waves a hand as if to clear the air. "I'm sure he had a lot of back up work to do. He forgot to inform you he'd unofficially demoted me, and that happened the same morning- it's water under the bridge, Commander. We can only move forward." He turns to Gabriel, and directs a predatory smile. "I was here to ask permission to spend the day out with my _boyfriend_." Baptiste, on cue, wraps his hand around Jesse's own. "Since I've got nothin' but time," Jesse jabs at Gabriel a bit more… purposefully.

Jack has to look down and put a hand over his mouth to hide the fact his jaw dropped open _again_ , while Reyes just stood there in shock, face going completely slack as the word boyfriend slaps him in the face just like Jesse knew it would.

"This really is just a formality, though," Jesse admits, sipping his sangria. "After all, I ain't Captain on the books, not even unofficially anymore." He gives a long-suffering shrug, before looking to Baptiste with a sweet smile. "He overheard that non-essential personnel had been granted the day off while y'all deal with sorting this out."

Gabriel finds his voice. "You don't need my permission, McCree," His voice is sufficiently stilted, and McCree gives him a pleased smile.

"Just wanted to be sure, sir. Would _hate_ to… inconvenience you, boss. Good luck, Commanders." He gives a lazy salute, and turns tail, Baptiste following him, taking the hand that had been holding Jesse's to wrap his arm around his waist, squeezing the skin there in a possessive final gesture.

Just before they leave the tent, McCree listens intently to hear Jack ask Gabriel in a low undertone, " _Well then, how'd you fuck_ _ **that**_ _up?"_ And McCree's face breaks out in a triumphant smirk.

XXXXX

"So, cowboy, you were in need of a boyfriend." Baptiste teases the moment they're out of the range of anyone from the base, sitting in a bar together.

"Just to explain you away." Jesse insists. "While my position isn't…that high on the totem poll anymore, it'd be odd I have a friend they don't know about. Boyfriend, though, that'd be a recent development." He leans back. "Sorry Baptiste, I'm afraid you're a rebound."

"I'm afraid I'm already spoken for," Baptiste puts a hand over his heart, giving him a faux display of heartache. "And I simply have to break up with you," McCree snorts, shakes his head.

"Thanks for faking with me." McCree goes quiet as he finishes his sangria. "It was a big ask."

"I figured you had a reason for doing that, and it turns out you did." Baptiste shrugs, easygoing. "I was the one who tracked you down."

They go quiet, and McCree orders real liquor the moment the bartender comes to collect the empty glass. Baptiste rolls his eyes at the desperation in his voice, but doesn't comment on it. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"I just…started crying." He admits after the bartender leaves his teeny cup with something with actual bite to it in front of him. "I was upset, tired, I let out a single cry, one good scream, and then a fuckin' earthquake comes."

"And you did this in the pool?" Baptiste confirms, seeming concerned.

"I mean, yeah." He shrugs, watching the oblong shaped ice cube swirl at the bottom of his cup, melting against the side. "I tried to listen to you. I certainly didn't want to cause a goddamned earthquake, Jesus. Definitely didn't try."

Baptiste nods sympathetically, "It must have been quite the shock." He makes a subtle pun as he thinks on that, something McCree only catches a moment after. "I was wondering what on earth your parents had been thinking, but now I realize why they must have raised you so far inland. If just you crying can do that, you as a baby would have caused the separation of part of the US mainland… if you'd gotten upset in the ocean."

"Oh, thanks." McCree mutters, feeling somehow slighted.

"It's not an insult!" Baptiste defends, putting his hands up helplessly as he lifts another glass of sangria off the bar, sipping it. "In fact, our deep sea mermaid friend wants desperately to meet you, and that was with her assuming you'd done it from the ocean. From the pool, that's a dangerous amount of power to be handling." He tips his glass towards McCree. "I knew you'd be strong, based off your coloring, but at the same time, I didn't reckon you'd be this strong."

"Based off my coloring?" McCree sputters, and Baptiste nods.

"Red and black scales. Merfolk tend to fall into 4 styles of tails. There's the basic look, with dull or no scales- for camouflage purposes. From there you have ornamental tails," He gestures towards himself with a confident smile, "The pretty type, typically found in areas with high concentrations of merfolk, incredibly common in the Caribbean, Polynesia, the pacific island regions and the Mediterranean, as well as formerly off the coast of Australia on the reefs there- and they have scales and a lot of them.. Then there are tails for hunting. It's a pretty rare type, and our friend Sombra has it, and as it's primarily a deep-sea coloration, they glow in the dark and are often holographic under light."

He points to McCree. "Then there's the last type. The 'services' type- and there's lots of services. There are the feral merfolk that can talk to sharks, whales and dolphins, there are ones who make the best messengers as the fastest swimmers, there are the ones who make excellent progress restoring the reefs and shepherding the ocean. All are...essentially migrants, or open water merfolk. And you have the tail of a siren, which is a type of service merfolk. What service? Well…they're the weapons of the ocean." Baptiste chuckles. "The ocean bends to your will, and so does man. All merfolk can sing, but sirens? Sirens are the sing _ers_. They're the most likely to be able to take their powers out of the water."

He leans back, giving him an easy smile. " _And_ you're a particularly strong one. So tell me, Jesse. Have you ever done something…unexplainable?"

McCree's thoughts go to one place. The draw, the focus, and 6 dead men before him, and he sucks in a breath.

"I have one talent," he admits, hesitantly. "I can…shoot 6 perfect headshots across a field. I focus on their…it always sounds funny, but on their heartbeats, and it doesn't matter if they're running, or if there are folks around I ain't shooting. I fire, and only my targets die."

Baptiste whistles. "Sounds related." He agrees, setting the glass down on the counter. "If you have a free day, we can measure how powerful you are, and not have to guess." He whips out his phone, waving it side to side.

Jesse feels tempted, and recalls Genji, pointing out that no one else on base had any experience.

"You know what?" He surprises himself, and downs his bourbon. "Sure."

No one else on base had any experience. But he had 2 whole merfolk who were even better than whatever Genji could offer him.

XXXXX

Never let it be said that Jack and Gabriel don't understand the other. They absolutely do, and always had. They have such a good understanding of the other that there is no one else to know the other better.

Or that was what both had thought, until Jesse McCree had come into the scene and had seriously become Gabriel's closest confident. They'd been brothers in arms, had been for each other ostensibly when no one else could have been.

They had never been a couple, because back then Gabriel was married to a lovely woman that he still feels bad for divorcing, and Jack had been lovesick over some man named Vincent. But they _could_ have been.

Gabriel hadn't exactly meant for Jesse to take Jack's place, or for him and Jack's friendship to fall so far to the wayside with their arguments.

Jack stands there now across the room, and Gabriel rubs his temples irritably. "Don't say it," he halfheartedly tries to ward Jack off, but Jack just rolls his eyes.

"You revoked his status as Captain?" He drags out the words, unimpressed. "We're currently having a crisis of leadership in Overwatch broadly, with Ana dead, Reinhardt retired, and you revoke your most trusted agent's status? Why?" He asks, baffled.

"I didn't mean for it to last this long," Gabriel defends himself, looking away. "I already reinstated his access. It was a stupid thing to take away in a fight. He pushed his boundaries too far and I came down on him and I probably went too far."

"Which boundaries," Jack insinuates something and Gabriel doesn't like the sound of it.

"The ones you're stepping on right now, Jack." He nudges the man, who rolls his eyes and gives him a disbelieving scoff.

"A _lot_ of Blackwatch has never been official." Jack reminds him, avoiding acknowledging that touchy subject, but not letting it go. "It still would have been a breach of trust and an insult to void all authority you had over an argument in our personal life." He rationalizes. "You are the commander of Blackwatch, that much is official. But if it hadn't been and I went stripped you of your title, permissions, and status? You would be gone within a week."

"Don't you think I already know that?" Gabriel bites back, grumbling. "He and I haven't spoken without a fight. That farce of a conversation was the closest we've come to avoiding a fight, and I'm still not certain that wasn't one."

"His boyfriend's gorgeous." Jack notes, and Gabriel scowls at the reminder that Jesse, handsome, charming Jesse had found someone worthy of his time so soon after… where Gabe had left things, similarly irritated Jack ducked the issue. "Did you catch a name?"

"No." His lip curls up in distaste. "He's never mentioned a boyfriend, and he didn't say a name then."

He'd also never called himself and McCree _boyfriends_ , but the sting of jealousy burns in him, and the flat expression Jack makes, stretching his lips out like that reminds Gabriel that ex-nothings don't get told about the new beau.

It wasn't like he was unenhanced and couldn't hear McCree's familiar footsteps walk down and pass his room, or early on in their separation and he could hear his hand go against the doorknob, the one that McCree still mistakenly thought was locked to him. No, he'd always been aware of how hard McCree was taking this.

He'd just never pictured a world where McCree could move _on_.

He'd never meant for Jesse to replace Jack, and he knows, deep down, that Jack never was anything like Jesse was. Jack and Gabriel were two sides of the same coin- they knew each other in ways no one else did.

Jesse and Gabriel were right and left hand of the same beast, two galaxies that had crashed into each other, whose black holes sucked the other's in, merging and melding and working together. They weren't anything like he was with Jack. He was a different person around McCree, and they all knew that.

So, Jack's first question directed straight at him hits his heart again hard.

How'd he fuck this up this badly?

How had McCree moved on?

Jack's earlier point haunted him more.

How had McCree not already left?

"You're overthinking it." Jack pokes at him, shaking his head. "His entire act back there was to get under your skin. He's still here, and better, he's still trying to get back at you."

"So he's not moved on?" Gabriel asks, questioningly, not wanting to stomp out that ugly delicate blossom of hope in his chest, but he has lightened considerably, wondering why, exactly, he'd not come to Jack for advice sooner. There were few who knew his nooks and crannies like him.

Jack rolls his eyes, snorting. "Oh my god, you two." He flicks Gabriel. "No. He's not. Christ, which one of us was married?"

"Which one of us got brutally divorced because," He puts up air quotes for his ex-wife, "He is incapable of reading any kind of emotional situation."

"Didn't your poor ex-wife know she was marrying a psychopath?" Jack honest to god teases him, and Gabriel chokes on a laugh.

"Ow," He shakes his head. "That cuts deep, Jack. She knew, but it was…more complicated than that." He gives his ex-wife all the leeway in the world for what she put up with. Even more considering the danger he's put their child in.

Jack lets that sit for a minute, understanding Gabriel's feelings on the matter were likely…incredibly complicated. He leans back. "Well, he's not moved on. That's for sure. I have a _degree_ in passive aggressive nonsense- he was smirking as he left. He did all that to get under your skin."

"It worked." Gabriel grouses, sinking into mounds of paperwork to avoid thinking about the matter. "Even then, so what? We've not been able to speak without fighting for ages."

"Neither have you and I." Jack reminds quietly. "And we're not arguing now, are we?"

Gabriel gives him a wary expression. "Don't jinx us, Jack."

"Not trying to." He leans back in his seat, on the back legs. "Just pointing out that sometime, the biggest obstacle in your way is you."

"You're _going_ to hit your head, Morrison." Gabriel comments rather than respond to the obvious, and Jack scoffs loudly. Just as Gabriel calculated, the man loses balance with the laughter breaking his core muscle control, and he careens backwards with a yelp.

Jack rolls over and to his feet with a goofy smile, one that makes Gabriel roll his eyes and give a more genuine smile back.

"You look like a golden retriever or something." He murmurs, and Jack shrugs, setting the chair back upright.

"You've called me worse things." Jack notes, and Gabe wonders why, exactly, he'd been so adamant about getting back at Jack for what had been going on. When had they fallen this far apart that they couldn't talk to the other like this?

They'd been friends first.

How'd you fuck that up? Jack's voice rings inside his head, and he rubs his temple, blinks a few times.

"Are you alright, Gabe?" Jack asks, concerned, and Gabriel nods out of habit.

"Just a headache," He admits, his hand coming around to rub the base of his skull. "It's not the first today, definitely won't be the last- you know how it is."

"Take it easy, Gabe." Jack reminds. "We've got a long day. We can worry about McCree later. Trust me when I say right now, he's not ready to let go." Jack assures him, patting down his backside before sitting back down in his chair. "He's been crazy about you for ages. If he didn't leave after that fight, I doubt he'll try now."

"I hope you're right." He agrees, wiping his nose where wetness suspiciously feels like allergy season is kicking in. "Ugh. Allergies." He complains to Jack while he wipes his nose.

Jack turns to him with his good-natured grin, and promptly his eyes widen and his face goes a tad wan.

"What's that look for?" Gabriel asks, brow furrowing as he sniffles. "Just need a tissue box- is McCree back or something?"

Jack looks wholly spooked, and he reaches over for the tissue box. "No, not McCree." He says, and Gabriel's suspicions are up, haunches metaphorically lifting. He hands over the tissue box, while his other hand works at his pocket, and lifts his comm. "You've got a nosebleed." He tells Gabriel in his professionally calm voice, the one that Gabriel recognizes right away as one where confidence isn't felt but just shown.

He wipes his nose with a tissue and quickly pulls it back. His eyes go wide as he sees the black fluid that gave him away. He looks up to Jack, back down to the liquid, and doesn't have a chance to say anything before Jack is saying into his comm, "Page Dr. Ziegler right away, she's needed in the commander's tent."

Gabriel's life and head feels like it could split apart in that moment, but Jack's blue eyes are wide with concern, and he puts a hand on Gabriel's. "Stay calm, Gabe." He says in the commanding voice Gabriel knew Jack didn't really feel down to his core, the one he used after what Gabe did in Venice, when Gabriel asked what the fuck they'd do now and Jack had said he didn't know- but they'd do it together. "Panicking will only make it worse."

He blinks as he swallows black blood, tilts his head back. Jack pats his nose, and he feels so, incredibly stupid. He'd always trusted Jack- no one knew this part of him better. They'd done it all side-by-side, thick and thin. Had seen everything together.

Had seen this before, together.

Why hadn't he gone to Jack about this before? He thinks that, and his head pounds a bit more. He winces, and Jack's concern visibly deepens in his wrinkles. Ana had always joked that for someone younger than Gabriel, he was eager to get to the same age.

He pulls his comm out before Jack can ask how long- these symptoms were pretty far along. "I need you in the commander's tent, Dr. O'Deorain. Now." He bites out, and bites down on the bullet.

"I'm sorry, Jack." He says before he can think about his pride. "I… I didn't want you to worry. I had it under control." He defends himself, and Jack is already putting the pieces together in alarm.

"How far along are you," Jack asks, and Gabriel closes his eyes, mouth working as he tries to go through his excuses, but he can't find a way around it.

"It's…it's not good, Jack." He admits as he tilts his head forward to cough. "I've been getting treatment, but…it's the worse of the…. prognoses." He carefully explains, and Jack sees through his veiled words.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jack takes out a few more tissues as Dr. Ziegler calls in, her voice concerned.

"Commander Morrison?" She steps in, the flap of the tent dropping behind her, and he holds up a hand to grant Gabriel the privacy to explain himself.

Gabriel's voice is just as confused as Jack is. Looking back on it all, on every decision he made that put him further and further into a hole. His eyebrows crinkle together, and he whispers, "I don't know, Jack. Dunno how I fucked up this bad."

"Commander Reyes called me, I assure you," Moira's voice is raised from the outside of the tent, and both Angela and Jack's blue eyes shoot to the tent flap, before they look back to Gabriel, quietly asking him if he's sure.

"Let her in." Gabriel called, before coughing.

Moira immediately rushes forward, cursing. "Commander Reyes, I _told_ you that your injuries would have negative impacts on your condition- and I believe I said you should advance your treatment schedule." She chastises, ignoring Angela and Jack as she tilts his head from side to side.

"I don't need 'I told you so,' Dr. O'Deorain." Gabriel snips back. "I need solutions."

Red and blue eyes flick up to Jack even as she remains knelt on the ground, in service to Gabriel.

"I've told you before commander, the _best_ way I can help you," She says this directly to Jack, "Is to see what the other survivor's DNA looks like."

"Moira," Gabriel bursts, angry that she had the audacity to subvert his direct orders, before he coughs, and Angela puts a protective hand over him, worriedly looking to him, before distaste colors her expression as she looks back to the tall woman, now getting to her feet.

"I understand, Gabriel, that you were _adamant_ about not getting Commander Morrison involved," She stretches out the last word as she reaches into her bag. "But the cat is out of the bag, and he has seen what it's doing to you before, yes?" She removes her gloves, and Angela takes two steps back as she sees the purple hand, while Jack stands firm.

"I have, Dr. O'Deorain." He agrees, brow crinkled. "What is it that you have advised Gabriel to do?"

"He's dying, and so time is of the essence," Moira mutters as she takes out her equipment, and Gabriel rolls up a sleeve preemptively. "I have had to do a lot of backwards genetic work in order to understand how his DNA has degraded to this extent, before I could ever work out a solution. If I knew what a _healthy_ candidate looked like," She gestures to Jack, "I would better understand what, exactly, has broken down, and see how I can best stabilize him."

"We're very different, though," Jack thinks through this, and Gabriel has to appreciate Moira's patience, the woman catching her exasperated sigh as she gives Gabriel an emergency shot that he'd turned down. "I'm fairly certain that the SEP did different things to both of us."

"If only they had truly been so purposeful- I'm far more convinced they through everything and a kitchen sink into you, only to see what would take. Modern day genetic enhancement is a far more precise science." She hums, straightening after administering the shot and rubbing the affective skin, before she turned back to Jack. "Humans share almost all of our genetic material," She explains carefully. "It will be rather easy to spot the anomalies, especially considering I've already completely mapped his genetic material."

She cleans the area, and Gabriel watches as the treatment impacts the injection site first, the skin taking back its more human color over the grey that it was slowly becoming. He rolls down the sleeve, just for Jack to roll his up.

"So take it." Jack offers, voice deadly serious. His eyes catch Gabriel's, and he nods. "I'm not losing you now, Gabe, not after all this time."

Moira and Angela both seem taken aback. But the taller woman nods her head in respect. "I'll need to borrow some clean needles to take a blood sample, and…doctor Ziegler, you can do the honors." She politely informs, peering at a disgruntled Angela.

"You had that needle in your case." Jack furrows his brow as Angela begrudgingly goes through her own equipment.

Moira takes the entire case out, happy to describe her work to someone willing to listen and actually ask questions. Lord knew that when she talked about it to Gabriel he wasn't that interested in the methodology, just the results.

"I'm not that kind of doctor." She reminds. "My field is in genetics. I've worked in genetic modification, hence why Commander Reyes reached out to me. I keep our…emergency treatment in prepackaged shots, in case he has an attack and he cannot come into my lab." She lifts up another one.

"Essentially, Commander Reyes' genetic material had anomalies inserted into the code by the SEP. The anomalies had various intentions, but it can be difficult to discern which genes are responsible for what effect. Given that the anomalies have completely integrated into his DNA," She offered the shot to Jack, and he shook his hand, not needing to see her equipment. "It would be reckless and dangerous to try and remove them. Therefore, we created genetic scaffolding. I reverse engineered the decaying anomalies, and using my methodology I effectively reinsert a healthy copy of the DNA into his cell like a virus would. The nanotechnology disperses the healthy DNA to the most impacted areas, and it buys him time."

"Buys him time?" Angela leans in as Jack questions that one piece of information. Gabriel rubs at his headache.

"He's still dying," Moira admits. "It slows down the process. But I have many of these because this is just a Band-Aid. The second his extremely fast cell turnover rate has outnumbered the cells this treatment fixes, he is back where we started."

"Are memory lapses or irritability symptoms?"

Moira peers at Gabriel when he asks that, and Jack somehow balls his fist even tighter despite how he already holds still for Angela to draw blood.

"Irritability, yes." She agrees, voice tepid as she flicks her eyes between him and Jack. "That's nothing new. The memory lapses…no." She disagrees, carefully. "That's a new problem."

Gabriel feels ill when she says that, and she looks to him, furrowing her brow at him.

Moira is loyal to him, he's well aware of that, but the decisions they've made together have placed them both in precarious positioning.

And the cough that wracks through him as he sits back and lets his treatment work while Angela finishes her blood draw from Jack reminds him, suddenly, that he hadn't meant this to stay this top secret.

His head throbs harder, and Moira checks his pupils with a flashlight she produces from nowhere.

When did she get over here? She had been talking with Angela, the two of them tense with each other- he'd never helped

"Gabriel?" She calls, slightly more openly concerned.

When did he get here in his life?

Moira and Jack are both trying to get his attention, but Gabriel slips under his pain regardless.

XXXXX

When Baptiste said he had to ditch his Blackwatch shirt, McCree should have been a little more suspicious. However, he'd just rolled his eyes and retorted that Baptiste had already seen way more than his chest, before the first date, even.

He regrets his lack of suspicion now.

The first time he sees the Talon insignia on something is the moment a petite woman with the _ugliest_ bob McCree's seen since Fareeha was 15 walks in, the Talon insignia in the dead center of her uniform.

Her brown eyes follow his gaze, she turns to Baptiste with a question that isn't even out before McCree has put the pieces together in his head. If he weren't outnumbered, if he had peacekeeper with him, he absolutely would act.

As it stands, he is outnumbered, he doesn't have peacekeeper with him, and the woman in front of him gives him a predatory smile.

"Baptiste, you know who that is, don't you?" She asks, and Baptiste seems a bit concerned, putting a hand in front of McCree.

"He's the land shark." Baptiste explains, and that just makes her grin grow wider.

"Now that's ironic." She comments, before she removes her breastplate. "Jesse McCree," She draws out the name. "Commander Reyes' right hand man. Aren't you in a bit of a pickle?"

"Hardly." He bites back.

"Olivia." Baptiste crosses his arms. "Let's not start fights. We have no problem with him."

She laughs as she shakes her head, and Jesse side-eyes the man as he steps away from him.

"We almost certainly do have a problem, Baptiste." Jesse disagrees, staring at him distrustfully.

"Talon and Blackwatch, his organization, are enemies." Olivia chuckles as she explains. "We've killed some of theirs, they've killed some of ours. And you bring their captain, one of their highest ranking operatives back to our rental house."

"We're fighting _Overwatch?_ " Baptiste sucks in a breath, and Olivia nods, amused.

"I always forget you're so much further down on the totem pole, _mijo_ ," she taunts, "While I am just…the fly on the wall, getting all the information I need."

"Yeah, well, as far as I'm concerned, you're _both_ coming with me." Jesse growls, making Baptiste do a double take and the woman chuckles lowly.

Baptiste's hands go up. "I'm not fighting you, Jesse." He defends himself, and Olivia snorts again.

"He doesn't have a gun, Baptiste. Calm down." She reminds, confident.

Jesse's words are cut off as the door opens behind them.

"Oh? We have a new buddy?" A relatively deep man's voice comes from behind, and Jesse freezes, but Olivia and Baptiste close rank with him.

"A fresh catch." Baptiste says with an easygoing attitude that Overwatch's newest recruits training with him would be jealous of. Olivia puts an arm around McCree's waist, turning him around with her.

The man before him is absolutely massive. He's muscular, and he reminds Jesse intensely of Reinhardt when they were all younger. His tattoos are revealed as he saunters over to Baptiste and removes his own Talon uniform.

Olivia puts a head against his shoulder, squeezing him. "New boytoy, play nice Mauga." She gives a cool smile. "Baptiste reeled him in for me."

A huge hand claps on his shoulder, and Jesse feigns a smile, as Mauga looks him over carefully. "You look familiar, friend." He remarks, and Jesse looks into his golden eyes and sees something too familiar for his comfort.

This man's enhanced.

"Yeah, I'd hope so." Olivia purrs. "He's the hunk lifeguard I pointed out a few weeks back."

Mauga turns to her, thinking that over, before shrugging, relaxing. "Well, if he's your thing to deal with," He allows, sliding an arm around Baptiste. "Have fun with it. Baptiste, you and I have a mission to prepare for." He wraps the smaller man in a hug, and Baptiste does darken up mildly in a flush, shocking him out of whatever he'd been thinking.

"Right. Sombra, play nice." Baptiste points a finger at her.

She feigns hurt as she lays a hand across her chest. "I'm wounded, Baptiste." She leans against Jesse while Mauga leads Baptiste further into the beach condo.

"How's he a lifeguard, exactly?" Jesse can hear Mauga ask Baptiste. "I would figure that people would notice the fins."

"We don't have to use them when we go into the water," Baptiste chastises, shaking his head as they vanish into another room and the noise is cut off.

The moment they were alone, the pleasantries dropped.

Jesse pulled away, glaring at her, and Olivia gave McCree a knowing smirk.

"You can't fight us here." She reminds. "You'd die. And possibly get Baptiste killed with you."

"Baptiste is Talon, same as you." He growls.

Olivia rolls her eyes. "He doesn't think of Talon as bad, McCree." She sits in the bar of their kitchen, gesturing for McCree to follow her. "You and I know better, of course, but he's a softer soul than us." She gestures to him and back to herself. "He's a medic, for one." She leans back. "Better than you can say of your roll in Deadlock, or I can say of my roll in Los Muertos."

McCree stiffens at the reminder. "I'm different now." He says firmly, and Olivia gives him a knowing look, not having to say anything.

"Talon recruited him out of the Caribbean Coalition." Sombra hums. "Not enough money for his clinic in Haiti, not locally. He sends a portion of his earnings back to his friends there. Better than what you do with your earnings in a hired death squad."

"Better than what you're doing with your earnings in a hired terrorist death squad." McCree fires back, and she chuckles.

"Body mods aren't cheap." She agrees, lofty. "Especially not waterproof ones. But I don't have to justify myself to you. I'm just warning you that you've ignored some conditions that put good people in bad places and bad people in good ones."

She reaches back and opens the fridge, pulls out a beer.

"Overwatch is in Haiti." Jesse argues, lifting an eyebrow.

"Are they?" She asks, calm, collected. "Seems like there are lots of places where it's too easy for their enemies to exist in close proximity."

Watchpoint Gibraltar is 30 minutes away from here- closer than Jesse liked. And this was just a beach condo. Jesse swallows thickly.

"Well." She drawls. "We're not here to talk about that, though." She lifts up her hands and stands. "We're here to test out your powers. That earthquake was something. Baptiste didn't say as much, but I suppose it was from you?"

He nods, the motion short and to the point, mouth dry.

"Relax, McCree." She assures, sipping her beer. "If we were going to turn you over to Talon, we would have just told Mauga why he really recognized you. He knows that you're the land shark that Baptiste and I have yammered about."

"Is he a merman too?" McCree asks, feeling a bit…worried, that all his contacts were Talon.

She snickers, shaking her head. "No. But he knows we are. He's jealous, but he likes Baptiste."

"Are they together?" He asks, assigning these details to memory.

"In Baptiste's dreams." Sombra comments dryly. "Nothing official. As bold as Mauga is, he's frankly afraid of taking that final step. He already asks a lot of our friend." She gestures him outside.

The condo's kitchen opens out to the patio, and the sea lies in the distance. Between them and it is a pool, and Sombra pulls her pants off, shimmying out of them with little modesty. Jesse averts his eyes while he waits for her to jump into the water, and hears the splash a moment later.

Jesse turns back to her, and instantly gets what Baptiste meant by deep-sea mermaid. What breaks the water isn't anything what Baptiste looks like, handsome skin over sparkling shimmering blue scales.

Her tail is black and slick, missing obvious scales. He follows it down though, and realizes quickly it's nothing like either his or Baptiste's. A long tentacle flops onto the side of the pool and gestures him into the water.

"C'mon." She goads, the long black appendage catching the sunlight and gleaming with a rainbow of color.

McCree slowly moves to copy her, climbing into the water first before he removes his pants. She scoffs as he does, but otherwise doesn't comment. She backs away with an amount of control that McCree is very jealous of, and forces himself through the change.

The tail comes into existence, though he already feels cramped. Olivia whistles. "That is very impressive," She says to McCree, before sinking under the water and circling around him, moving with a grace that McCree's very conscious he doesn't have.

"Nine feet total." She comments when she comes back up. "Big."

McCree frowned, and shook his head. "I measured smaller."

"You've stunted your growth- like any growing animal, if it's kept in a too small container, it won't grow right." Olivia waves a hand. "But as you're a siren, you've got a big well of energy to draw from, and it's already being fixed. It wouldn't surprise me if you don't get to 11 or 12 feet long." She rubbed her chin with a tentacle as her hands rubbed at McCree's red scales thoughtfully.

"Do you mind?" He asked, feeling shockingly bare as she pulls her hands away and chuckles.

"Yeah, you've got some growing to do still." She crosses her arms, and leans back in the water, letting it catch her. "You feel overwhelmingly strong. Baptiste told me you were from New Mexico, but nothing turned up in my circles about any powerful sirens that were from there."

"Not surprising." Jesse sighs, looking up. "I know less than nothing about my family. Just that I lived on a farm, once. In another life, it feels like."

"Doesn't mean they've not given you something special," Olivia gestures to the sea. "You caused an earthquake. That's big. If you tried, you could get any human miles from here. I wouldn't even be surprised if you could target specific humans."

"I thought all mermaids sing?" He vaguely recalls Baptiste mentioning something like that.

Olivia laughs. "We can all sing, but potency is the key variable. Humans can ignore me easy, fish are far more interested in me. Baptiste can sing in small areas and maybe distract some humans. Sirens, though, they're built for power and directing that energy around. I can maybe do a little work at the very bottom of the sea, make a sea vent, that kind of thing," She waves a hand like that wasn't in itself incredible, and McCree has to keep his calm. "But you? The sky is the limit." She lets that sit, before she snorts. "Except not. Your powers come with you on land, to some degree."

He floats in the water, tail swirling beneath him, and asks a dumb question. "How do I talk underwater?"

"Oh? That's easy." She gestures him below the surface with the end of a tentacle, before sinking below herself. "Especially for you. You just need to imagine you can. The world is your oyster, land shark."

McCree looks to the ocean, looks to the black tentacles that are below the water, gesturing him further down, and he allows himself to sink down below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again ! Two more chapters is my goal, but I'm admittedly a bit of a pantser. Might get a third chapter out of that, depending on how much ground I cover in the next chapter.
> 
> feedback is loved and appreciated!


	4. Tidal Wave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for the day late update! Didn't mean for this to be postponed to today, life unfortunately popped up and needed to be addressed before I could finish this guy in a timely manner. Well! Depending on how well / how fast I manage to wrap up the loose ends here, there might be one last chapter, but there could be two more, again, depending on how much I get done and how far another 6-8k words brings us.

Night's long since fallen by the time Genji and Angela are able to sit down for her nightly coffee and paperwork session. Angela had been busy partly from resituating the medical department, partly from something confidential regarding both of the commanders and shockingly, Moira.

Genji privately thinks that perhaps the two of them finally got into a fight, but from Angela's harried expression when she sits down and practically falls back against her chair, he knows it's nothing to joke about.

"What a day." Angela sighs, rubbing her temples. "First a sudden earthquake, a mandatory evacuation, Jesse's sudden, absolutely infuriatingly cute _boyfriend_ and then the mess with the commanders…"

"I thought he was dating the commander." Genji admits quietly. The way those two shadows had folded into each other always seemed like there was no room there for anyone else. No way for Genji to squeeze his way in.

Angela scowls at the reminder. "I thought so _too_ , but according to _Commander Morrison_ they've been fighting lately as well." Those words clink awkwardly into place like a puzzle piece fitting in it's slot.

McCree's body, sinking into the water, unmoving, face uncharacteristically blank as it claimed the one thing Genji wanted but could never have is burned into the back of Genji's eyelids, and he removes his mask to see Angela's face more clearly.

Every single wall that had been thrown up in his face since, how the avoiding had been returned after months of making an active choice to not speak to the one person he wanted more than anyone else. The one person who he seemed completely unable of getting close to, and yet McCree had made it seem like it was so easy to.

Jesse McCree's world has fallen apart. It's been in pieces for a long time, and he's made it look like it was easy to take the world on when it was around you on the floor. He did it with style and with purpose and with charm that had stopped coming easy to Genji after Angela had told him how much skin he had lost, and how much more he was likely to lose.

McCree had lost Angela Ziegler in a horrible argument after the worst night in Blackwatch's run. And he'd all done it at the feet of the commander he had fallen on the sword of Blackwatch for.

The commander now turning anything good remaining in McCree and bringing it down into the darkness that he dwelled, that Genji had dwelled until his brother- the bigger monster by far, had spat him up and McCree had brought him up to that surface.

And then McCree had sunk.

Genji hadn't even noticed how far gone he'd been.

"I'm worried about him." Genji says, and Angela makes a face.

"Did he tell you about what happened to him?" She asks, recognizing after a moment that this wasn't the time for her to be angry at McCree for falling on that sword.

Genji thinks about the tail, and wonders if she knows. Realizes that he wouldn't have been able to talk to her about it if he'd tried- she had been complaining of him making excuses to talk to her in her medical department. He shakes his head, and knows it's the truth- McCree hasn't told him much of anything at all.

She sighs. "The stubborn man fell off a cliff face, and then, because he can't swim, he started to drown. He doesn't have the standard amount of swimming training because of his…unique circumstances being brought in." Angela swirls her coffee around in its mug as she flips through her papers. "Reyes was the one who saw him fall, and the one who called it in. I'd been the only other person to see him before the accident."

Genji hadn't heard about any of that. "Was he alright?" He asks, quietly.

Angela scoffs. "He wasn't breathing when we brought him and Gabriel in. We intubated him, but…he was fine." She rubbed her arm thoughtfully, using her other hand to set down the paperwork before swirling to look at Genji fully. "Freakishly fine considering the circumstances. We were able to take him off the intubation less than an hour after he woke up. Gabriel was far worse off."

Genji recalls red and black scales, and Jesse's gills. His wild expression smacked against the ground of Gibraltar's Blackwatch pool. He'd been fine because he was built for the water, built for its roughness.

"Has he had any check ups afterwards?" He asks next, and Angela shakes her head.

"It was always difficult getting him to come in for them." Her words are a paltry excuse, because they both know Jesse would have come in if she'd asked. Anything for a chance to talk to her again- something that Genji's taken from him, something that's embittered Jesse against him.

"I think he's planning on leaving." Genji decides to tell her.

Angela doesn't say anything, but that's alright- their conversation is interrupted by a quick rapping of fingernails against the door, and Tracer's youthful face pokes in. "Hello, Dr. Ziegler." She chirps, "Sojourn has called you and I in for an emergency meeting with the Strike Commander, given the evacuation and how we were supposed to head to Havana today."

Angela gets up, pats herself down. "Of course. I'll be right along then." She turns to Genji. "You should rest, Genji, we're going to be back on schedule this week if we are to catch Maximilian. McCree is capable of looking after himself."

McCree wasn't okay. McCree was dealing with supernatural powers for the first time. He remembers that his brothers dragons were a bit harder to control than his lone green dragon, which had curled around him and protected him even when he was young, and had been the sole reason he'd survived.

His brother's dragons were less forgiving of a child's mistakes with them. They'd nipped and fought with him and lorded over him. Less like a protective animal, and far more aware that their young master wasn't ready to control them, and wouldn't moderate themselves for his lack of control.

From the earthquake, this didn't seem like a calm protective supernatural thing that would ease McCree into it. This sounded like Hanzo's accident where the dragons destroyed a chunk of their father's gardens in the back.

Angela walks out the door, and Genji hesitates for only a moment.

He goes to McCree's forgotten quarters.

XXXXX

They've switched from the pool to the ocean as the day progressed to night.

Olivia is a good teacher- he has to begrudgingly give her that. She's confident, calm, and doesn't mock him too badly for his lack of knowledge on their shared…trait.

She does, however, get under his skin about other things.

"So, McCree, how does it feel being taught by your enemies?" She asks underwater after exhausting his primary ability to speak underwater.

Jesse's gills flair, and she chuckles, her tentacles folding over themselves like scheming hands. He doesn't give her the satisfaction of his biting remark that he's done it before. Mainly because he doesn't want her pointing out how much things have changed since then.

Gabriel is no Ashe, and Olivia is no Gabriel.

"If I could have shot you, I would have." He reminds, going for the matter of fact answer.

"And you're surrounded." She reminds, popping a single shrimp into her mouth and leaning back against the rocks of Gibraltar's beaches. "Isn't that what got Gabriel into trouble with Overwatch in the first place? Killing someone innocent- to the world- in the den of his enemies?"

McCree grits his teeth, and she shrugs. "You don't have to hide that. I studied the Venice incident extensively. Everything security check that went wrong, every unturned stone, every potential area for improvement. The one thing Talon faults itself for was letting you all get away…but that's turned out in their favor in the end." She teases that fact, and McCree goes still.

"There's a mole." He growls. " _Moira_."

Sombra's grin widens further. "You don't like her? Well, I would say it goes deeper than that, maybe 6 feet deeper."

The darkest scenario suddenly clears all of the fog clouding his judgment. He breathes in sharply, coughing on the inhaled water. Olivia is laughing at him, not using any sound- it was entirely in the glint in her eyes and her predatory grin.

The real reason Blackwatch had become more and more rotten from the outside in- it was never just from the outside in. Its core had been rotten all along- or at least for a decent amount of time.

Jesse feels sick. He wants to deny it, but things start falling into place one by one.

Sombra is watching him, and McCree wants to scream, to shout, to bring hell down around Gabriel Reyes and how hard he'd tried to defend him, defend what they'd built together.

And yet it all makes sense now.

Olivia watches him as he dashes away in the direction of base, leaving everything else behind, and she swirls in the water and heads back to her home.

He'd gotten some swimming practice in that day, but nothing like what's settled into his bones in his terror and growing fury.

(Earlier, Olivia had told him that he should never fear the ocean for its storms, because he was the storm.

As his eyes turn black and he lets the ocean guide him home, he forgets that he should fear the ocean for its power, that he could draw upon without thinking.)

XXXXX

McCree's room is empty.

Genji stands alone in the middle of it with his expression hidden under his mask, at the unmade bed, the clothes strewn about it, and feels oddly like a voyeur.

It's not that he and McCree never shared a room before, it was that he'd never been alone in such an intimate place. McCree's beloved gun lay on his desk, so he knew well that McCree hadn't run off anywhere. Other things were left behind, though- his comm, his hat.

He doesn't mean to pry, but he's worried for McCree. The man's computer is easy enough to get into with the information Jesse'd poured out unintentionally over the years. Or maybe it was intentional, and Genji had been too angry to tell, too eager to use Jesse to stand on without considering the foundation of it all.

He types in calamitysvulture, and gains access moments later.

The dossier for Havana is sitting open in his document, with tons of little notes typed around the edges, with questions they'd asked in their meetings with Sojourn. Why now? Why this easy? It's been 3 years, and they get sloppy now? What's coming for us?

There were emails within the Blackwatch section that seemed worrisome. Many of the ones that McCree had thrown out mentioned discontent and some expressed darker concerns. Getting the Strike Commander to see sense so that they could all get back to work.

There are too many unsent emails to Angela and Fareeha. There's one very sternly written unsent email to Gabriel, asking him what the hell in the subject line. He can tell McCree wrote that one drunk.

From the state of the room in general, the bottles lying inconspicuously around, he can tell that he'd been doing that a little too often.

The only thing new was the presence of towels in his hamper. Specifically, they were the towels from the Ecopoint area downstairs- an interesting discovery. He remembers Angela mentioning that McCree used to go there to smoke and thought he was hiding it from her, unaware that then-new hire Mei-Ling Zhou (who'd had a horrible crush on McCree at the time) was reporting on him back to Angela.

The thought of Mei reminds him that McCree and Angela's life is filled with so many shared ghosts.

("I'd love to meet her sometime." Genji had said, honest. Anyone with a crush on McCree and who were friends with Angela was a potential ally.

Angela's face had turned dark, wistful almost. She crosses her arms and sighs, quietly. She rubbed her arms before giving him his answer.

"She was part of the Ecopoint Antarctica team. She's…she's gone now.")

He sighs, closes out of the computer. There was nothing about any boyfriend named Baptiste, though he supposed McCree could have had a cellphone somewhere. His comm didn't have anything about him on it either.

He looks down at the desk, and sees something curious. A business card, laminated. Genji picks it up out of curiosity, and is immediately suspicious.

Jean-Baptiste Augustin. Combat medic.

What kind of boyfriend gives someone a business card? He doesn't even have the question in his head a full minute before he groans.

A fake one. Stupid, clever McCree, always eager to get one over other's heads- and they'd all fallen for it.

He opens up the drawer to toss the card into it, when he spots something a bit more serious.

" _Dear Commander Gabriel Reyes_ ," it starts, and Genji shoves the door shut. He doesn't even want to read the rest. He knows what it says. He doesn't want to believe it, doesn't want to see Jesse's signature on it.

Jesse wasn't dating someone new. He was talking to a new job offer. Likely some mercenary group, he thinks with disgust. McCree was planning on leaving for good, and he could see why. His life had been cut open and left in pieces, and there was nothing for him to put back together.

It was just as when Angela had spoken to Genji in his hospital bed. There was nothing left for him in Shimada Castle. He had other options to move forward.

The fact that McCree had been the one to lift up his broken body, the one who had caught his eyes as a handsome waiter who didn't fit into the small town of Hanamura, the fact he had been behind Dr. Ziegler with a teddy bear and a balloon that said, "I'm sorry your brother tried to murder you," and the ridiculousness of all that McCree was…had been apart of his way to move forward. That had been a huge part of it.

Their final mission together, Jesse outraged as he asked Gabriel if they were just assassins now, and how Genji had pointed out to him that, in spite of all they had done, there was nothing he could do to escape his fate.

He remembers how McCree's face had scrunched up, and he'd gone quiet- because McCree had been the one to draw him into this.

And McCree is leaving? Or plans on it?

He sits in his room for some amount of time, looks around at the four walls, and the general way that it felt lived in by someone who had just stopped caring about a lot of things.

He's up and on his feet, refusing to believe its true. Refusing to believe that he's left so much unsaid. Refusing to believe that McCree would draw him in, hook him, and then leave him on land to die alone. He understands that he's not been the best to him.

But they were partners.

Surely McCree wouldn't just…let that go, not without saying goodbye.

Genji has a hunch as to where he is, since the pool is broken and blocked off downstairs.

XXXXX

He can see why McCree likes to come here.

The ocean laps into the grotto kindly, and the general calm ambiance of the closed scientific office is a huge contrast to the other labs on this base, or in Zurich, or in the now decimated Rome base.

The stars shine above him, and he sits at the empty waterside, staring out at the ocean, and wonders how come he could never see the beauty before now.

How much else has he taken for granted?

The grotto is empty, and none of McCree's clothes are here, as they were by the pool when he'd had to desperately put him back together and carry him out during the emergency evacuation, the man long past unconscious and refusing to wake up.

He sits at the waters rocky edge and wonders how on earth he'd managed to take so much and never think of it. How much he regretted missing out on now that the idea it could all be taken away form him forever.

Genji won't admit it to himself, but the worst thing McCree had ever done was to match his petty behavior tit for tat. He hated the affectionate touches because he'd never been able to have him the way he wanted, but the second that was truly gone, he needed it more than ever.

What a fool he was. He could hear Hanzo laughing at him, mocking him for believing in their father's stories like some child.

And maybe Hanzo was right- maybe he was a fool. But he had to hold out hope one last time that McCree would be there when he needed him.

The water shifts before him, and McCree's head pops out of the water slowly, deliberately, eyes closed as he shifted from sea to air.

Genji would have jumped back, but just breathes in a sigh of relief as he shifts, preparing to stand. "McCree," He chastises. "I found your letter of resignation, you can't be serious about leaving right now- Overwatch won't be the same if you leave."

McCree's eyes open, and Genji has to reel back as he doesn't see the easy brown eyes that drew him in when he first spotted him in the ramen shop. Pure black stared at him and they didn't recognize him in the slightest.

McCree opens his mouth and there are more teeth than Genji had ever seen in a humans mouth. His dragon curls around his back, preparing to protect him. McCree says nothing at all, but noise comes out of his lips. He was half expecting the brutal shriek that made the earth shake, but instead what comes out is…sweet music.

The sound of what leaves McCree's lips is soft, yet cloying, almost like water rushing over him and then pulling him in like a wave would at the beach.

McCree never had to try to draw him in, though, he thinks as he moves forward, before out of nowhere his dragon bites his remaining skin.

Immediately, Genji blinks, and he realizes that this…this was another of McCree's developing abilities. He shakes his head, and removes his mask, finding himself in the water with McCree, and grateful for the rocky bottom of the grotto.

The singing doesn't stop, and McCree's eyes are pitch black, expression otherwise intent.

He doesn't seem bothered by Genji coming out of his fog, and he gets the sudden, sinking feeling that he's- yet again-not the intended target. "McCree," He tries, and nothing changes. "Jesse," He says, his voice choking on the word, on the name that didn't go with the inhuman face and energy thrumming through the air, calling someone down to them.

He moves towards him, clumsy in the shallows, and he grabs his face at the chin, trying to get his attention, snaps his fingers before his eyes and doesn't get any reaction whatsoever.

Genji breaths, and he feels his skin shudder where it meets his container. He keeps his cool most of the time, but this was different. This was Jesse.

"Jesse," He says, more vulnerable as he lets his voice waver, releasing that coiled up vie for control against his hurting heart. "Please. Snap out of this." He rubs McCree's chin, able to get some semblance of the sensation of stubble beneath his inhuman fingertips. "I need you to snap out of this."

McCree doesn't blink at his words, and Genji despairs as the music gets louder once more, and his dragon has to steel him against the current dragging him into the water, under Jesse's influence.

He gets a revelation that if his dragon biting him was enough to wake him up, then perhaps what Jesse needed then and there was… well.

Genji stops thinking and starts doing- he slaps Jesse across the face and instantly the sound is gone. A charge is released in the room that he hadn't even noticed was there, and Jesse slumps forward,

He catches Jesse, because he's right there, and he holds him in the water that now more calmly laps against them both.

They stay there for a long while, and finally, Genji can get a good look at McCree's other form.

While McCree is never ugly- in fact, he is overtly good looking, the rugged kind of handsome that read as distinctly masculine- this was more beautiful, with gleaming red and black scales that sparkled in the moonlight, and a long tail that stretched out under the water and out to sea.

His hair is soaked wet, but it cups his face now, accentuates it in a different way than it does when it was fluffy under the horrible hat hair and cheesy looking cowboy hat.

The teeth are gone, but the nails were not- and they were clawed, the fingernails meeting fingertip in a distinctly less than human way. Between the fingers is delicate webbing, but it seems stretchy and malleable in a way Genji doesn't expect.

He gives into his desires in a way that's uncharacteristic when others can see- but they're alone, and they're both stuck with bodies that (while fantastical) aren't what they originally were. He holds McCree against him in the night for a long time, before he pulls away from him.

Genji stares at the red mark left from metal and plastic meeting skin hard, and he rubs at it regretfully. McCree's eyes are closed, and no one is around to watch them.

"I'm sorry." He lets himself say, and he means it on every level. He doesn't know how much he's apologizing for, can't quantify it, but it shakes his core to say it aloud.

He leans forward, closes his eyes, and his scarred lips meet Jesse's reddened cheek in a chaste, apologetic kiss.

It's just his luck then, that that's when Jesse's eyes open.

XXXXX

There's a smooth face and a warm pair of relatively thin lips against his face, and Jesse leans into the kiss, instinctively soaking up any affection his bedmates give him.

He's just distracted enough by the warm body against him that he doesn't immediately notice the cold water against him, which breaks his reverie right as the person holding him, _kissing_ his cheek freezes.

Jesse pulls back, and Genji is staring at him wide eyed. He blinks, taking a moment to register things. "We certainly seem to be meeting like this a lot," He says, a bit too shocked to say anything else about it at first.

They sit like that for a long moment, before McCree jolts his mind fully back to the present- where Olivia had revealed Gabriel's betrayal, Baptiste was a Talon agent, and he'd been in the ocean a far bit away from Gibraltar and Overwatch- as far as he was aware- had still been evacuated.

He rubs his head, doesn't know what to address first, the kiss or Talon. Based off Genji's expression- looking like a deer in headlights- he goes with professionalism. It slips on like a familiar skin he's molded to fit his form nicely.

"I can't remember how I got here." He says, rubbing his head. "Last thing I remember I was with, well, it doesn't matter who I was with, but I know now that the leak, the reason why we all keep getting fucked up so bad is because fucking Reyes and Moira are the goddamned leaks." He realizes too late that his emotions have hyped up considerably over the course of his speech, and Genji's horror is apparent in his expression the more he says.

Genji takes a moment before speaking. "Are you sure," He asks, and Jesse nods. He's never been more sure about anything in his life. "Are you going to tell the Strike Commander?" He asks next, and Jesse scoffs, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"Of _course_ I'm going to tell the Strike Commander about this," He shakes his head. "Who else would I go to? Reyes, the mole himself? Or Petras, who hates my goddamned guts."

McCree swims to the waters edge, realizing with a grunt that he'd left his uniform with Baptiste. "Fuck. Goddamn it." He curses. "I don't have any goddamned clothes."

"I'll go get you some," Genji says, hesitantly, padding out and grabbing them both towels. "It's late. The strike commander is in a meeting with Sojourn, Dr. Ziegler, and Tracer right now, about the mission to Havana."

McCree groans as he realizes that the incident this morning had delayed departure. "Shit." He breathes out as he lifts himself onto the flooring, Genji handing him a towel to cover himself with as he shifts back. "Forgot y'all were supposed to fly out today, scope out Havana in preparation for Max and his entourage."

"We'll be going tomorrow, I believe." Genji hesitantly offers, and McCree breathes in, the sound shaking in his chest a bit.

He looks to Genji. "I appreciate the clothes, just…what happened? I can't remember getting here."

Genji clearly debates on how to answer that, and he finally goes with, "Let me get your clothes, I'll explain what happened when I'm back."

That didn't ease anything in McCree's chest, but he settles down to wait regardless, drying himself off, antsy as he stands there, anger still hot in his chest, confusion as he recalls soft lips on his cheek.

Jesse catches the look on his face and gapes at the red hand print on his cheek, rubbing it with no small amount of confusion, since he _definitely_ doesn't remember getting that.

XXXXX

They're walking out of the Ecopoint, up to the Strike Commander's office when Genji finally finds his tongue again and starts talking. "I went looking for you because you never had come back, and I found…well, I found the letter of resignation in your desk."

McCree's gut clenches, and he sighs. "Yeah. It's not signed or dated, Genji." He explains, rubbing his neck. "I've been debating on leaving for a while. But I can see why finding that might lead someone to wonder." He shakes out his hair again, making a face before he rubs his face again. "I can't believe you slapped me."

"I only did that because when you came into the grotto, it, well, it wasn't you." Genji explains in a low voice. "Your eyes were completely black, and you started singing. I get the suspicion that if my dragon hadn't bitten me, I would have…well. I don't know what would have happened."

McCree's gut flips, and he swallows. "So you slapped me."

"So I slapped you, and you passed out. Just like you did yesterday morning."

McCree glances at the clock on the wall as they pass it, grimacing as he notices that midnight has indeed come and gone. "Right. So why did you kiss me, exactly?"

He grunts as he bumps into Genji, who had frozen on the spot. He steps back, and Genji looks to him, mask long since replaced, and considers him seriously. "Why do you think?" He asks, flatly, sounding irritated in the way only Genji could be, voice slightly more metallic than usual. He starts walking again, and McCree gets back to walking alongside him.

"Well, that's what's puzzling me. I ain't afraid to say I have some trouble getting a good read on you." He admits, crossing his arms before he changes the subject. "Suppose that means you saw Baptiste's card as well."

"He's not your boyfriend, is he?"

"No." Jesse admits, since they're discussing things. "He's…well. He's like me."

Genji looks back at him again, doing a bit of a double take after a comprehending nod that turned into shock. "He's like…like that?"

"He and another one…well, _she_ taught me some tricks and stuff today." He confesses, rubbing his neck. "That's where I was today."

"So how'd you find out about the commander?"

Jesse makes a face. "It's a long story."

"McCree," Genji presses, and Jesse evades.

"One that could get more than just Reyes into trouble. I have…well. I put the pieces together myself, you just have to line them up correctly to understand it." He grouses, defensive, and Genji sighs, just like he used to when they were still on the same team, had no differences between them, no bad blood.

"Just hope that Reyes slips up and the Strike Commander is willing to believe you on it at your word alone, otherwise your sources are going to have to make themselves more readily known." Genji reminds, and Jesse grumbles.

"You don't have to remind me," McCree mutters as the two of them finally, blessedly make it to the elevator up to the offices of the higher-ranking officials of Overwatch.

They wait outside the elevator standing too close to be strangers, and yet just far enough to question if they're really friends or not.

McCree would have said that there's no way in hell that Genji and him were friends, but the kiss, the hold, the fact that Genji gave enough of a damn to come looking for him in the middle of the night spoke to the depths that the ocean hid when it just showed the tip of the iceberg.

"I gotta say, Genji," He says to fill the quiet. "When you started avoiding me, it stung. I know you and I didn't always get along, but I thought at the very least we'd been friends. Then you just…break off all contact."

The elevator opens, and they walk in together, Genji's hands tightly clenched; his expression unreadable under the mask.

"Then I hear you and Angela are…well, _together_." He lowly intones, watching listlessly as the doors close in front of them. "I just assumed that you never were interested in me. Just in her. And you had her, so what good was I?"

He isn't sure when, exactly, Genji had removed his mask, but out of nowhere he's pushed against the glass wall of the elevator. Jesse's eyes are wide as Genji stares at him, his brown eyes almost glowing with their intensity.

"You know what I hated most about Blackwatch, Jesse?" He asks, his hands pressed against the glass, and he's fully prepared for Genji to eviscerate him; either literally, or with his words.

McCree can't even muster up the words, so he doesn't even try to ask what, but Genji catches him off guard once again as he's kissed- passionately, fully, controlling and commanding. He groans into the kiss, knees buckling as he lowers himself so that Genji can get a better angle, the two of them going from just a kiss to a quick make out in the elevator in a heartbeat.

The doors open, and they pull apart. Genji's panting, and the sound is painfully human when he laughs, shaking his head before he puts back on his mask.

"I _hated_ that I never was able to do that."

Jesse feels raw in a wholly unexpected way, his breath caught in his throat before he's able to start back up again, blinking as he tries to comprehend it. He can't even wrap his brain around it before Genji is moving towards the doors to stop them from closing, and they walk down the white hallways, the only lights still on being the ones lighting the giant statue outside.

His breath shudders as he hears Sojourn, Angela and Morrison talking down the hall still, and knows that they have to shelve this conversation for now, in spite of how he very much is interested in going further down that rabbit hole with Genji rather than face the one his fucking boss had gotten himself into.

They walk down the hall in silence, Jesse's mind otherwise blank from the shocking revelation.

Jesse pushes open the door, demeanor collected as Sojourn and Dr. Ziegler jump, and Morrison looks at him with a cross of irritation and concern.

"McCree, I thought you were taking the day off." He says in lieu of saying this is a private meeting and McCree is violating all kinds of regulations by barging in when he's just another Blackwatch agent now.

"What happened to his face?" Tracer asks Angela in a bad attempt to whisper.

"Commander Morrison," He starts, and nods his head. "I'm sorry to interrupt," and he means it genuinely. "But I need to tell you something bad. The man I was seeing today wasn't my boyfriend, but that's not important." Jesse's expression turns dark. "It's about Commander Reyes."

XXXXX

Needless to say, after kicking Dr. Ziegler, Tracer and Genji out of the room, and a quick explanation of the facts, he, Sojourn and Commander Morrison storm the medical wing with fury lighting each one of them for the same, simple, yet brutal fact.

Gabriel Reyes is a turncoat, and so is his agent, Moira O'Deorain, as are an unknown number of Blackwatch agents.

" _Reyes_ ," Jack snarls as he throws open the door to the medical wing, Sojourn having gone off to put Moira in an interrogation room with the help of people under her command. "You better have woken up already, because I'd hate to kick the ass of an unconscious man."

McCree stands with him, prepared for a fight with the Reaper himself, only to find Gabriel waiting at the door for them, his eyes glazed over, expression drowsy, body slack.

He's on his feet at least, but both Jack and Jesse peer at the other before looking back to Gabriel.

" _Gabriel_." Jack calls, snapping his fingers in front of the man's face a few times, his irritation turning into bewilderment.

Jesse gets a sinking feeling that he knows what this is. "Gabe?" He questions, the man snapping his attention towards him immediately.

"Jess," He smiles, eyes distant as he moves towards him and hugs him tight. Jesse's so shocked by the honest affection that he lets it happen, the man sighing as he presses himself to Jesse. "I heard your call," He whispers, and Jesse resists the urge to swear, remembering Genji had mentioned him singing.

"Gabriel, are you alright?" Jack asks, bewilderment now turning into open concern. "Can he even hear me?"

"I _really_ ain't too sure," Jesse admits as he hesitantly hugs Gabriel back, the man melting into the affection. "Uh, Gabe, much as I missed this, we're kinda mad right now. Can you even hear Jack?"

"Don't be mad, Jess, I'm so sorry." Gabriel murmurs, not moving. "I can only hear you, love."

Jesse looks to Jack, the man raising an eyebrow at that, and McCree shrugs.

He has only one good, solid idea.

Jesse lifts his hand, and he smacks Gabriel clear across the face. Jack whistles lowly.

Gabriel doesn't flinch; he blinks after it's done, before giving a delayed reaction. "Ow, _fuck_." He curses, and the two untangle as he steps back.

Jack looks between the two of them for a moment, struggling for words, before he sighs.

"Gabriel Reyes," He starts, voice heavy. "We're bringing you into custody for espionage, terrorism, and treason."

Gabriel pales, expression fading from outrage at being slapped, to cold horror. He doesn't even ask why, just shudders as he offers Jack his hands and lowers his gaze.

"Commander McCree." Jack turns to him after putting the handcuffs onto Gabriel. "Bring him into interrogation room A. We're going to have a long night ahead of us."

The shock of him being named commander of Blackwatch isn't even enough to match the shock of Gabriel surrendering to them both that easily, crushed under the weight of all the collective actions of a lifetime now destroyed by the organization he now served.

Jesse looks at Gabriel, gets a good long look at him, before he turns him around and shoves him out of the medical wing, heading down the hallway, down into the depths of the Watchpoint.

He has a sinking suspicion this wasn't just going to be a long night- but long, awful days that stretch out before them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, I'm so glad everyone has been enjoying this!!! thanks to everyone who's commented, it's fueled me and kept me super invested in finishing it!!! we're getting close. Hopefully this has set us up nicely for the final pairing. 
> 
> I also might be interested in writing a more fluffy side story once this main story is finished. A merman, a dragon wielder, and an eldritch abomination walk into the bedroom. They're dating.


	5. On the Rocks

They need to get the mission moving before they can interrogate either Moira or Gabriel. That means that Jesse has the time to go to Gabe's- _his_ new office and use his card to get inside and…begin sorting out all his thoughts.

(With the strike team taking off to Havana, Sojourn had leaned back and turned to him. "Commander McCree, I know that you're new to this position, but we could all use your expertise with a lot of this," Sojourn had said, patting his shoulder. "I'm sorry about Reyes," She whispered, more concerned. "I know you two were…close."

"I intend to help however I can," He had said firmly. "I won't let somethin' like this destroy everything I ever worked for- get your team in smoothly, we can talk more later."

Genji's green visor-hidden gaze had stared him down from across the airfield on the base.)

The door opens for him, and he turns on the lights to see…well.

He finds hell in a hand basket and then some.

The room is, frankly, in a state of complete disarray. He knows that some of this is undoubtedly the fault of the earthquake he made, but the rest clearly had been a result of poor upkeep. Papers lie all over the desk, the drawers are all wide open, the computers smashed in, the chair clawed at the sides.

He turns the corner, and his stomach sinks as he finds a bone white mask. He pulls it out of the drawer, turns it over in his hands.

Jesse half expects the mask to fade into smoke, but is only mildly surprised when it continues to weigh his hands down, the weight of the discovery sitting on his shoulder's like the world sat on Atlas'.

It's going to take weeks to go through all this.

He looks over, and at the center of the desk, there's a broken photograph. The glass has broken over Ana and Fareeha, leaving Gabe and another old member of Overwatch who's name Jesse couldn't really recall cut from the rest of the group.

There's a crack that runs between him and Angela, but he ignores it, putting the broken glass in the trash and setting the photo into a drawer for safe keeping. He doubts Gabe would want to lose that.

Well, he doubts Gabe wants to lose anything- his room is covered in anti-Talon missions. His handwriting in many of his notes is furious, painfully piecing things together. Either he's trying a very convincing act or the man wasn't just a double agent.

But it's hard to know without interrogating him, which is what draws McCree's attention back away from the boards.

It feels like he's seeing double, because he an so easily see Gabriel standing there all irritated, telling him to get a move on, the place was a wreck and Jack was going to be coming by.

He sits at Gabriel's desk and types in Fareeha's number in the comm, and leans back, expecting to be sent directly to voicemail.

Color him surprised when the line connects before the first ring, and Fareeha's panicked voice is clear on the other side.

"Gabriel? Oh god, I've been waiting for a phone call from you or Jack all day- I heard about the earthquake at the base- is everything all right?"

Bitterness is powerful in his mouth, and he debates on hanging the phone up on her, but he pulls himself together quickly. He's the commander of Blackwatch now- he has to have it together.

"Sorry, Fareeha," He apologetically says into the receiver. "Everything's fine here, but this ain't Gabe."

The line's quiet for a long moment, before she asks, "Jesse? Why are you using Gabriel's private phone number?"

"Sure is," He acknowledges. "I can't give you all the details, I'm afraid. What I can tell you is that Gabe's- he's fine, just in a shit load of trouble. In the meantime, the Strike Commander's named me the new Commander of Blackwatch."

"Oh," Fareeha says, letting that sink into her. "So why are you calling me, Jesse?" She asks, and Jesse's gut clenches.

"Figured you deserved to know." He explains. "I realized no one had prolly called to tell you we're all good here. Granted, I expected your voicemail, but you're an adult, you're allowed to take calls from whoever you want to."

"Jesse," She sounds confused, and Jesse has to bite down on every instinct to just hang up on her. "You're mad, and I don't get it. I've not gotten calls from you in _weeks,_ and you don't even answer mine."

That strikes something cold and fearful through the angry knot in his gut. "Fareeha, I've called you every day for ages." He pulls out his comm. "Well, not the past couple days, but…" He trails off, and he dials her number, before reading it off to her. "That's you, right?"

"Yes, that's my number," She stammers, and Jesse waits, and waits.

"Are you getting anything?"

"No, I'm not." Fareeha sounds more openly concerned. "Jesse, you thought I wasn't answering your calls?"

He hangs up his comm, tries to call the phone he was currently using.

Nothing. Not a ring, not a note that someone was being directed straight to voicemail, not a note that someone was on the other line.

Jesse curses, and he closes his eyes, thinks. "Someone's been jamming my outwards calls." He assesses, turning the comm over in his hand. "And if you've been calling me, it ain't a stretch to think someone's been stopping me from getting calls as well."

"That sounds…well, that sounds bad." Fareeha seems genuinely concerned, but Jesse shudders in a long breath. "Jesse, you thought I wasn't answering you, or calling you back?"

"I woulda understood it, Fareeha," Jesse explains. "Your mom bein' gone. There are lots of people here who ain't on good terms with me anymore."

Fareeha's voice has an uncharacteristic sharp edge as she continues down that path. "Who hasn't been on good terms with you, Jesse?"

"Gabe, for one." He scoffs, leaning back in the chair. "Angela and I haven't been right in a very long time. And really, the base is… well. It's all wrong. We're in Gibraltar right now for the Havana mission, but nothing's been right. Not since…" He lowers his head and his voice. "Not since we lost the Captain."

"I'll be talking with Angela." Fareeha grouses, and Jesse sighs.

"Don't worry about that." Jesse defends Angela, knowing that woman had put up with a lot from him.

"If it's about O'Deorain," Fareeha starts, and Jesse finishes.

"Of course it's about O'Deorain, but it's been two years." He shakes his head, chest aching. She isn't gonna change her mind about it. And that's fine. We've been apart for 2 years. Do I miss my best friend? Of course. But it ain't my job to tell her she's wrong for her opinions on the matter. I wasn't happy about it either, and while she prolly begrudgingly understands what happened, she isn't obligated to explain her thoughts and feelings to me. We broke up."

Someone whistles on the other end of the phone, and Fareeha groans.

"Excuse me, waiter," A distinctly masculine voice breaks in. "I'd like that," he hums lowly.

"Tariq," Fareeha clearly shoves the man, the phone picking up the movement as static. "He's like my brother."

"And he's so _sensitive_! My ex didn't let me go for _years_ , and this gentlemen is letting the relationship die like a champ," He defends himself, laughing as it sounds like Fareeha throws a pillow at him.

"I should let you go," Fareeha mutters, amused. "I have work, and this one's going to get on my case."

"I've got work to do anyways." He murmurs. "Gabriel's…well. He's in trouble with Jack. I'll update you when I can."

"Stay safe," Fareeha murmurs. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too, Jesse."

He doesn't bring up his letter of resignation, but the thought of it now sits heavy, uneasy in his stomach as Jesse is left alone in a room filled to the brim with memories, good, bad- but all were loud.

He goes to his quarters the moment after, and shred the document for good.

XXXXX

They start with Gabriel. Gabriel's face is familiar, which makes this that much harder, but he's had an attack. Moira was 'kind' enough to give them his medication, but scathingly reminded Jack that the stress from the situation wouldn't do him favors.

(Gabe should have thought of that a long time ago, goes unsaid.)

The man's sitting pale in the interrogation room, and they've set up some health equipment to monitor his condition. Jesse has taken on his most formal persona. He can't let it out how much this is hurting him.

Not while Gabriel is sitting there, gaze focused down at his hands, vacant. He's completely unreadable, but so is Jesse.

He sits across the table, folds his hands.

Jack comes in behind, has the decency not to point out that this sure was a role reversal as he sits next to Jesse. Folds his hand as the wrinkles on his forehead crease.

He turns to Jesse to begin, and Jesse is hit, all over again, with the realization that he's now the Commander of Blackwatch.

Jack is waiting for his lead.

"Gabriel Reyes, 52 years old." He says from memory. "Former Commander of Blackwatch." He sets out the white mask, and Jack's gasped ' _oh god,'_ makes Gabriel flinch. "Also known as the Reaper. A mercenary and terrorist who we believe to have been bought out by Talon in the past year."

Jesse raises his gaze to meet Gabriel's. "I don't even know to start with this," He admits. "Of all the people I saw as double agents, I can't say I ever saw you. But here we are." He leans back. "Refuse to cooperate and I take this straight to Petras. You'll rot for however much longer you live."

"It'll destroy Overwatch," Is Gabriel's quiet refute, and Jack gives a hysterical laugh.

"Oh, I'm well aware. But if this is how it needs to be, I owe it to the public we were sworn to protect." Jack shakes his head, rubs his temples. "I hope there's enough of the man I thought I knew in you to cooperate."

Gabriel sags. "It wasn't supposed to be like this." He admits, readily, surprising them both if Jack's expression is enough to go by.

"What was it supposed to be like?" Jesse asks, needing more information than that to go off of.

"I was receiving treatment through Dr. O'Deorain." He carefully elaborates. "When all Blackwatch activities were frozen, so was her treatment plan, and so was all of her equipment, research… all of it." He lowered his head. "Dr. O'Deorain was approached during the events in London with an…opportunity. Money, tools, equipment, access." He sags. "I can't deny that I've been the Reaper as long as you've known me, but I swear Jack, that didn't have anything to do with Talon until last year."

"So let's talk about this." Jesse turns over the mask in his hands. "How long have you been the Reaper?"

"Since the SEP." He readily admits. "They have used my abilities since they made themselves known."

"They?" Jesse prompts, but Jack has a hand over his mouth, understanding dawning on him.

"The US government." It doesn't escape Jesse that it looks like the weight of the world is off Gabe's shoulders. For a man good at leading, the stress of it had always worn him thin. "The DOD, specifically. They'd made their perfect soldier, and I owed them," He puts invisible quote hand signs around the word 'owed', "Everything I had, so they said."

He closes his eyes. "And then they left me to rot, Jack. I took their tests. I started falling apart and they offered no support aside from telling me that research in the realm of genetic enhancements anymore. And that was one thing- I could have…dealt with dying, with myself falling apart. But… my wife," His voice cracks. "My ex wife. She found the results from their tests on me. Realized that…our child, my beautiful girl," he leans forward, closing his eyes. "My beautiful only daughter, she probably inherited whatever I have, and that means my grandson, he has to worry about it too."

Jack's eyes are wide. "That's why she divorced you."

Gabriel's solemn nod tells a story, of a man who had been driven to the limits of what he had given for country, for humanity, and was losing everything in return. "She divorced me because I put our family in danger, and I never told her anything about it, I just…left her to pick up the pieces. She told my daughter, and…I've not heard anything since. All of our research on the condition, my wife gets sent to her."

He leans back, rubs his forehead as he shakes. "I started work for Talon…recently." Gabriel closes his eyes. "It was…with Moira. I went as Reaper, hoping to conceal my identity, but they…" He laughs, the sound wrong. "They thought it was the funniest damn thing. I thought Vialli was going to have a fit. The Commander of Blackwatch, a dog of Talon. If only Antonio could see them now." He puts his head in his hands. "They have so many eyes inside the walls, Jack. An entire cover up on how Lacroix got vanished that they can pin on Dr. O'Deorain and I. Once it comes out that I'm here, that O'Deorain is here, they're going to bring that to your office Jack, and if all else fails, they'll take it directly up with Petras."

Jack meets Jesse's gaze, and they both know that Gabe isn't lying about this.

"How many do you think?" Jack asks, and Gabriel shrugs, the gesture helpless.

"They've been with us as long as we've been around," He explains. "I reckon one of our original team. It wasn't me, but you don't have to trust me on that." He bows his head. "I took your trust and ran with it. And I don't know why anymore. I don't know why I tried so hard to keep this from you anymore." He puts his head in his hands. "I don't get it."

Jesse places his comm on the desk. "Hey, Jack." He smoothly turns to him. "Call my comm please."

Without asking but making a bewildered expression, Jack did exactly that. Nothing came through, and Jesse sighs. He turns the device over a few more times, before breaking it against the table.

"They've been playing us for fools, Jack." He turns to Gabe, turns back to Jack. "In my quarters the past two months I've had my papers ready to submit. My letter of resignation all prepped and ready to go." He runs a hand through his hair. "I was going to turn it in the day I fell off the cliff, right along with the report Gabe asked me to submit for the Havana mission." He shakes his head. "I was a ticking time bomb, ready to leave. They've been putting this into motion for a long while, and wanted us separated, to make it easier on us to pull apart and deal with."

Jack runs a hand through his hair. "How do we beat this?"

"We clean house." Jesse murmurs. "Nice and easy. We call it…downsizing Overwatch's military capacities. The world doesn't need us right now, the press says? Then we respond in kind, by downsizing our capacities. We're downsizing all our active military offices. The world doesn't want us watching? Then let Petras get what he's wanted for a while, while you get the credit."

"Jesse, It's not that easy," Gabriel starts, and Jack gives him a withering look. He has the decency to look a little cowed, but he continues. "That just gives Talon what they want. They want you out of the way."

"Yes, Gabriel." Jack intones, leaning forward. "Let's hear more about what Talon wants."

Gabriel sags into the chair, and he rubs his head. "We're going to be here a while, aren't we?"

"Longer than you realize." Jack agrees heavily. "And after we're done here, there's a jail cell with your name on it in Zurich."

"I'll cooperate, Jack." Gabriel allows, lowering his head. "If it makes any difference… I'm just as horrified it got this far as you are."

"I find that hard to believe right now."

"Morrison, a word outside." Jesse murmurs, and Jack nods, standing.

Jesse stands after him, taking the trashed comm with him, and they leave Gabriel in his cell.

"I don't like this Jesse." Jack admits. "He's taking this all too easily."

"Think of Amélie." Jesse murmurs, quiet. "She was…fine. Not even traumatized by the experience. We suspected something had happened, but she and Gérard were murdered before we had a chance to understand. Now Gabe's fine too, and after he's acted so weird and out of character? Something's happened to him." Jesse confides his theory. "But we need to talk to Moira, as Gabe says she's what brought them in."

"Then what?" Jack mutters. "We're in a load of shit right now."

"We'll outfit this location with all the amenities of a cell for now, Jack. I say we don't let it out that he's been…taken into custody. I'll downsize Blackwatch; say Commander Reyes has stepped down for health reasons. We keep him under lock and key here. And we interrogate Moira for answers."

Jack paces, and Jesse can feel the hole where Ana was stronger than ever.

XXXXX

The time change leaves them all a bit jarred and rearing to go. They're all eager to get Max before things progress further, but unfortunately, it was the middle of the night when they landed, and they had a while to wait before Max moved.

That left them in a hotel overnight, one that they unfortunately had to share.

That, unfortunately, didn't stop Tracer from yammering. While he could appreciate the young girl for her spirit when they sparred, her chatterbox mouth could get on his nerves sometimes.

"So, Dr. Ziegler, who exactly is McCree?" She asks, curious. "I know that he gets on well with Commander Reyes, but I frankly don't know him too well."

"He's one of Commander Reyes' highest ranking members, and he's been part of Overwatch longer than I have." She says, taking a careful hand with her explanation.

"He doesn't really strike me as the kind of guy Commander Reyes would hire." She admits. "Too quick to joke. Commander Reyes has always seemed so serious!"

"I know he comes off as a jokester," Winston cuts in, saving Angela from having to talk about her ex. "But he's actually exactly the kind of person Commander Reyes prefers to hire. A lot of the outer persona is to make people underestimate him."

"Right! You've been with Overwatch for years now, haven't you?" Tracer recalls, flopping onto the bed. "I can't remember what it was like when Blackwatch wasn't sidelined. Tell me about McCree then, Winston."

"Well, it wasn't always Blackwatch he was with." Winston explains. "He was like Captain Amari's son."

Angela made a face, and Winston edited that for her sake, "From what I know, he was hired at 19 by Reyes."

"Reyes wanted him after the Deadlock Bust, at Ana's advice." Angela informed politely. "The Strike Commander was against it, but you only have to see him shoot to know why he's an asset."

"Is he why Blackwatch gets criticized for hiring criminals?" She asks, and Angela winces.

"With the public…yes." She looks to Genji.

"I'm the reason why it's called that on base." Genji mutters. "Most people know McCree's heart is one of gold. He's practically Amari junior's older brother, he's hung around the original strike team long enough that he's friends with all of them, and," He turns to Angela, challenging her.

"And what?" Tracer asks, very curious. "And why are you and Winston both looking at Dr. Ziegler like that?"

"Because," She huffs, giving in, "McCree and I dated for years."

Tracer's eyes go wide before she laughs. "What? No." She shakes her head. "I can't even see it! McCree is… _that,"_ She gestures vaguely. "And you're, well, _you_."

"Mei also had an awful crush on him." Winston tempers her humor. "There's a rumor that he and Commander Reyes are…together, currently."

"Not anymore, but they did in fact date." Angela harrumphs, her cheeks tinted pink. "Apparently they've broken up as well."

Tracer looks absolutely gob smacked, and Winston looks like he's interested in this discussion now as well. "Seems like I've been going to the wrong person for gossip!" She sits up and crosses her legs. "I'd love to be a fly on his wall if he's gotten around."

"No, you see," Angela mutters, "He's the fly on your wall. He gets into your life and just… takes."

"Oh?" Tracer dampens, and turns to Genji, raising an eyebrow. "Is that why you slapped him last night Genji?"

"No." Genji disagrees immediately. "No, that's…that's not what he's like." He lays down, sighing as he looks at the ceiling. "It's not what he's like at all. I slapped him because he was panicking about what he found out from his contact last night about Reyes and Talon activity."

Tracer looks suitably guilty, and Angela sighs, looking away. "Angela is upset because of what they broke up over." Genji exposes her nonsense on the matter in one go. "McCree took it better than she did, and he didn't take it well. He's been depressed about it ever since, and apparently worse since he almost died the other month after Reyes broke up with him."

"You two were on the same team, weren't you?" Tracer murmurs, quiet. "Do you miss him?"

"He's not spoken to McCree in months," Angela explains.

Genji decides that an ounce of truthfulness with himself is worth it. "I do." He says, feeling refreshed to actually say it. "He and Angela saved my life. He's the one who brought me in, and she's the one who put me back together. He was my rock when I first got here." He goes quiet, lowering his head. "But I…I only ever seemed to hurt him. So after I transferred to this team, I stopped talking with him. I knew he was with Gabriel…so I thought it'd be better if I moved on too."

It doesn't take Tracer long to put those pieces together, and she turns pink. "Oh? But I thought, but you and Dr. Ziegler were…"

"No, we're good friends," Angela immediately says, shaking her head. "But just that."

Genji holds himself. "I kissed him yesterday. I slapped him, but I also kissed him. And I left him on base knowing that he's had his trigger on leaving for longer than I like to imagine."

The room's air has gone awkward, and silence holds control.

"Well I think it's time for bed." Angela coughs. "Everyone, please, keep hydrated. It's very hot here, I know that we just were in Spain, but remember that the humidity combined with heat is a lot."

Genji tries to sleep, but can only feel McCree's mouth on his, the hard on against his metallic body, the surprise in the small noise McCree managed to get out, and Jesse's eyes watching him calculatingly across an airfield as they all took off.

XXXXX

Jack decides to go to Petras with their combined idea the next day. Limiting Overwatch's military capabilities, turning over many of their assets to the UN proper.

Angela will have a field day when she hears Overwatch is heading its first pacifist only mission into Egypt, but Jesse knows, has known, that he won't share in that happiness.

("What'll happen to Blackwatch?" Petras asks, and Jack turns to Jesse.

"Reyes is on medical leave." Jack sounds genuine when he lies like it's second nature, and Jesse resists the urge to tell Jack he would have been a good head of Blackwatch himself. "He's…well. We all did our part for the crisis, and he's paid a price higher than many others have."

"That doesn't answer what happens to his agents."

"Captain McCree has taken his spot as Commander, but he was the one to come up with the majority of our restructuring. We're restructuring Blackwatch, as we really truly want to restore the publics faith in us." Jack murmurs, giving McCree a reassuring look. "We'll keep the organization on, but the plan, for now, is to merge pieces of the organization with our intelligence department. Certain individuals are invaluable in the fight against Talon, but we feel like this is the best path forth for us.")

McCree left the office when Petras and Jack got into the knitty gritty nonsense of a formal restructuring and downsizing of a major organization. They were trading in paramilitary capability and becoming a more peacetime focused organization than they already were. Of course, they weren't ridding themselves of everything, but they didn't want to make the public think they were watching them. A more sleek team, fewer active combat members, more funds to Overwatch's humanitarian operations- none of these things are bad, especially when considering Overwatch's enemy, Talon, and how they wouldn't be able to dig in quite as easily in a smaller organization with more familiarity.

He sits in the other interrogation room, and finally addresses Moira, who has long since started to lose her composure.

"I know you brought Gabriel a bed." She petulantly complains.

"How do you know that?" Jesse drawls, sipping his coffee.

Moira gives him a long, angry stare, and she bares her teeth absently, looking rather feral for all her typical prim attitude. "I can feel him." She hisses. "All the time. We can…communicate, loosely."

"Now that is something." McCree hums. "If you can prove it."

Moira groans, rubbing her temple, her red hair dirtied after two days in an interrogation room. "Before the…before we were _caught_ , he heard something. A song." She shakes her head, focusing on it. "I couldn't get anything through to him, it was like wading through syrup." She opens her duel eyes and narrows them at him. "And it was from _you_."

McCree knows that she's telling the truth, but she's suspicious and angry and looking absolutely feral. He leans over the table, and nods.

"Yeah. It was me singing." He drawls, clipping the end word with a bit of irritation.

She sneers and leans back. "How." She asks, trying to understand it.

"I ain't gotta explain a thing to you, traitor." He gets to hold that over her, and Moira just glares.

"So you don't, and so I am." She agrees, bitter. "But you can't just get rid of me. You care about Gabriel, and I am what stands between him and death."

"Oh, I'm all too aware." He admits, shaking his head. "And that's why it's very important for your pompous ass to be very careful with how we proceed. I'd hate to shoot you outta frustration and leave Gabriel to die."

She laughs, voice low.

"If only death were the worst things waiting for either of us." She hisses, black smoke eking out of her. She pulls herself back together, groans, rubbing her temples. "We're both in withdrawal." She looks to McCree, hating how weak she was now. "I'm all too aware that you don't care about me, but if you want me to be of any use in your interrogation, you should at least treat the base symptoms of it."

"I'll treat Gabe's alright." He agrees, petty. "You can wait for Sojourn to get yours. This pain? It's just what you deserve, _bitch_." He spits the word out, stands and leaves her there.

Moira howls after him, but she's left unanswered, uncared for, unwanted. An unfortunate liability that none of them could be rid of until her use wasn't a necessary evil.

XXXXX

Things fall into place like dominos. People pour out of the seams of Overwatch, and McCree catches as many of the ones Gabe can confirm in his stunned daze or Moira in her frenzied craze screams the names of in desperation for any kind of relief from what she's done to herself.

He's not sure if 'catch' is the right word when all that's left for the one's he's confirmed is a bullet between the eyes.

3 days into the mess, Gabriel seems to hit rock bottom of his withdrawal, and his eyes are red, his skin coming apart and yet he's more of Gabriel than he's been in a long time. The man doesn't remember the full story, but by the way he's crying and apologizing to Ana, Jesse can't bring himself to ask what it was he and Moira did, and how far gone he had been.

Sojourn finds out that he's torturing Moira, and as much as she dislikes the woman, gives her medical treatment and won't quite look at Jesse in the eyes after giving her the necessary kindnesses they'd long since extended Gabriel.

"You know, McCree, I forgot how Deadlock made you." She comments. "Vulture."

"The harbinger of Calamity," He murmurs as he spreads his arm in fake , "Wasn't ever a thing Ana could stamp out of me, and neither her nor Reyes really wanted to. Just wanted to tame it, didn't realize it was already leashed. And Sojourn, let's be honest with ourselves- this is nothing she's not earned."

"She and Reyes have both cooperated." Sojourn reminds. "We're going to offer Maximilian a cushy deal if he works with us on getting Doomfist. And you're here torturing a sick woman for revenge."

"She's sick alright," He mutters, and Sojourn grabs him by his chin.

"McCree," She warns. "You will either treat her with the dignity you are treating Gabriel, or you will not see her at all. She's cooperating. And you're putting that at risk."

Jesse shifts back into Jesse, back into the passenger's seat of this operation. He breathes, and he looks at Sojourn calculatingly. "So, Maximilian." He assesses, thoughtful.

"The team's closing in on him today." She agrees, folding her arms. "He'll come in for a more formal interrogation. And then we let him go, and we go after Doomfist."

McCree makes a face. "Let him go," He crosses his arms. "Much good that'll do, not when he'll keep funding things."

"According to O'Deorain, without her and Reyes, a lot of his pies are useless." Sojourn admits. "I don't like her either, McCree, but she's not lied to us yet. She's more useful alive than dead."

"It's the yet that'll get you." McCree warns, knows that Ashe's old saying about yet's being a liability no gang leader would ever take would fly over Sojourn's head.

"Cryptic comments aside, she's made sense when she's not babbling nonsense. Between her and Gabriel, we've been able to piece together the events of Gerard's murder. It's not a pretty picture. They both maintain that they weren't involved with her kidnapping, and Reyes has only worked with her after O'Deorain had."

"We already had a timeline." McCree disagrees, grumbling.

"A wrong one," Sojourn laughs, shaking her head. "And, more interestingly, she's named Amari's killer."

That makes McCree listen and stop his running commentary, and lets her speak.

"It's Amélie Lacroix. They've turned her into a weapon. One of their enhanced snipers," Sojourn rubs her forehead, sighing. "It…sounded crazy to me at first. But she and Gabriel are able to talk to each other without ever being in the same room, and she has nothing to lose."

"She told me she can just sometimes pick up what happening in his head." McCree mutters.

"I might be interpreting it weird. She's also 3 days into withdrawal from a mystery drug that she and Gabriel were _both_ on and has been frank that Talon roped her into this with blackmail but has kept her in by offering her things we never gave her, respect, open access to resources, and such." Sojourn shakes her head. "If we can't get rid of her, we need to get her on our side again."

"Moira's never been on our side." Jesse disagrees, but his stomach flip-flops at the idea that Amélie killed Ana after being turned into one of their enhanced Talon snipers.

"No, but she's been on Gabriel's." Sojourn reminds. "The dedication to do whatever it takes for his health, even under pressure from us, and pressure from Talon." She pats his shoulder. "I'll take her, you handle him. Just… no more deprivation torture. Not if you're in there being at least decent to Gabriel."

Jesse sits back, and sighs. "Fine. You handle Moira. I'm a little more than mad that the bitch was the one ruining my life, and she's the one who broke my comm."

Sojourn pats his back. "Take it easy, Commander. We don't need another Blackwatch scandal right now."

"Oh," He snorts. "Trust me, I know."

XXXXX

Gabriel Reyes hasn't had a good week.

There was an earthquake, and his life has collapsed on itself, he was caught in his deathly illness, his best agent is now commander of an organization he's not apart of, the man who was his best friend and brother is holding him prisoner, and now they're nothing, painfully nothing.

Jack can hardly look at him anymore.

Gabriel can hardly look at himself.

The more removed he is from Talon, the further into withdrawal he goes, the more he realizes that Talon was turning him into what they were using Sigma for.

A weapon. His talents as a leader are unnecessary when he's a far better gun and death machine. Moira is plenty brains between the two of them.

He betrayed all of them. The worst part was, he can remember thinking, months back, that he was changing. Remembers Moira giving them both medication and remembers the rabbit hole starting in earnest, remembers falling.

He can't believe he never saw how far he'd gone. Now he's at the bottom, and he can barely see the lip of the edge he fell down. Worse than, it feels like he smacked against the rocks below, splattering him into a million pieces, and it feels far worse than when he'd jumped after Jesse.

His breath hitches at the thought of him. At the thought of what he'd put him through. At how Jesse can't even look at him anymore and when he does it's a mix of pity and anger, disgust and remorse, hate and hurt.

He isn't sure which emotion he prefers. None of them are things he wants to see in Jesse's eyes.

Gabriel almost prefers Jack, because with Jack at least, he didn't make it personal, not yet.

He can remember with some degree of clarity, that Moira decided that McCree needed to be removed, remembers agreeing with her, hazy, that they needed to cut McCree out, he was too close with Amari, too close to Jack, to Overwatch. Wasn't loyal enough.

Turns out, McCree was the most loyal one of all, and it was Gabe that was out of line. Ironic, but in the grand scheme of things, it's not that important.

"Alright, Gabe." Jack comes in, looking as tired as ever. "This will be my last session with you for a while." He sits across the table. "Moira says Amélie killed Ana."

"Lacroix did shoot her," Gabriel agrees, looking down, tears dripping down his face at the reminder, and Jack's expression drops. "But she didn't…shoot _her_. She shot her sniper scope."

He perks up. "Her scope?" He clarifies, and Gabriel nods, listless.

"We didn't confirm the kill. I sent McCree after her, and he just…turned up nothing. Meaning, someone cleared Ana out. He checked every morgue, and I told you all this." He shakes his head, sinking into his chair. "I sent him personally, I didn't want Ana to die, Jack. Talon only ever found her gun. If Ana's dead, Talon doesn't know where her body is, and if she's alive, she doesn't want to be found."

Jack leans back hard in his chair, looking just as listless as Gabriel.

"I miss her." He admits. "She'd know what to do with you."

"You mean besides beat my ass?" Gabriel asks, raising an eyebrow.

That draws a short laugh, but it isn't long lived. "I'm going back to Zurich today." He tells Gabriel. "We're interrogating Max. The team got him. You're staying put while we put your information against his."

Gabriel nods, sighing. "Right," He agrees. "And McCree?" He asks, Jack faltering slightly.

"He's staying with you, Sojourn's bringing Moira with her to Zurich. McCree and her get along like oil and water with a match set."

"Sounds right." Gabriel agrees, lowering his head.

Jack folds his hands on the table. "Moira said that they brainwashed Amélie. They nuked her entire personality, made her unfeeling."

"I had yet to work alongside her." Gabriel admits. "Max will be more help understanding that decision."

"They have the technology to brainwash people?"

Gabriel nods. "It's a combination of technology and manipulation techniques, but yeah, they can, and they have it. Amélie Lacroix was their most successful experiment yet."

"You realize," Jack leans forward. "That your symptoms have a pretty distinct story to them."

"I won't make excuses for myself." Gabriel leans his head forward, looks at the table. "Even if I was, I knew something was deeply wrong. Time stopped flowing correctly, my moods got worse and worse. I refused to seek any help that wasn't Moira. Thought you and Ana were going to betray me. I was losing it, but it doesn't make right anything that I did for Talon. I thought I was strong enough to withstand this. But I wasn't. I went too deep, got in too far, and couldn't get out. Worse, I got mad at anyone who tried to help, at you, at Jesse, at Ana." He shakes his head. "This…is all my fault, Jack."

"I'll see you in a month, Gabriel." Jack promises, patting his shoulder. "Even if you call them excuses, I see them as reasons to not report you to Petras." Jack stands, gives him his good guy smile. "I know you're a good guy, Gabe. Just…we'll get through this. We'll figure this out. We're closer to beating Talon than we've ever been."

Gabriel just hopes Jack's right.

XXXXX

A big hand ruffles Olivia Colomar's hair as she sits at the poolside, and she smiles up her current roommate even as her irritation reminds her she desperately needs a better hair stylist and a new look.

"You know, you and Baptiste are very cute when you are being slick, but I wasn't born yesterday." Mauga sits next to her, dipping his legs into the water. "I know you had Jesse McCree, Captain of Blackwatch here the other day."

"Are you going to report me?" She asks in an overly innocent voice, curious as she sips her tinto de verano.

Mauga hums like he's considering that seriously, but his expression tells Olivia he's spent the past several days sitting on his answer. "I don't think I will. Baptiste definitely didn't know they're our enemies, and you, well, _you_ have your own reasons for everything."

"Do I?" She asks, kicking her legs through the water. "Perhaps. Maybe I recognize that our friend is a bit naïve to our employers…or maybe I think having the Captain of Blackwatch as a friend isn't a bad thing…or maybe, I think, wow, that siren caused an earthquake without ever meaning to, what the fuck would he do if I really pushed him?" She shrugs. "I'll let you think it over."

"Talon lets you get away with murder, Sombra." Mauga tells her as he enjoys his beer.

"I sure hope they would," She feigns surprise. "I'm fairly certain that's all you were hired to do."

"I could turn you all in, reveal that all of you are merfolk." Mauga reminds, in jest.

"Hm," She stands, stretches. "You're forgetting it's not a compulsive change…and your crush on Baptiste." She pads away on her bare feet. "And I doubt you really want to make a personal enemy of a siren, Mauga. He didn't even get your full name. Let that be a blessing in and of itself."

The ocean breeze passes over her as she heads back inside and he lets her get away with it.

"Want something stronger? I'm getting bourbon." She offers, and he gets his poured over a single large ice cube, and she swirls the dark liquor in its glass, knowing that the situation has sat exactly how the drink has aged. And now it's been served, and she's prepared to enjoy the taste of it as it burns all in its path.

XXXXX

Maximilian talks. Well, more than talks, he spills. Squeals. McCree almost wants them to kill him for it when it's all done, but Jack advises him against it.

McCree's kind of glad he's not there, and instead is forced to deal with Gabriel. He's got a few people giving him meals, and he gives him his treatment personally. Even though he's done his withdrawal now, the fogginess, irritability and forgetfulness leaving him, things haven't improved beyond that.

He gives Gabriel his shot, and backs away quietly.

They've not talked outside of questioning, and the line of questioning never goes to talk into how he's been.

"Max has given us what we need." He tells Gabriel. "We've got 2 weeks to our mission after Doomfist."

Gabriel's head stays down, and McCree grits his teeth.

"You said you needed me," Jesse mutters. "Why? I can't see why anymore."

Gabriel says nothing, and Jesse's jaw works irritably, swallowing angry words that have gotten him nowhere.

He will get no answers, no reasons, not even excuses, and definitely no apologies. After a moment of watching him, he leaves the room, his storm following him.

XXXXX

It's a slow progression. Genji doesn't follow up with their makeout session, and McCree lets it go. He can understand why, who wants to date the commander? Jack and him joke about that one night over whiskey on the phone.

(" _They don't know about Moira and Gabriel, and they don't know we know either."_

_"Well, that's good." He drawls. "I'd hope that none of us remaining were Talon turncoats."_

_Jack guffaws at the idea. "Oh, no, please Dr. Ziegler, put down the gun, we'll release Maximilian immediately," He feigns terror._

" _It could be the monkey." Jesse points out as his drink sloshes when he adjusts his video camera. "That'd be something."_

" _Cheers love, the traitor is here," Jack hums, taking it in stride at least._ )

"How we looking in Singapore?" He says on his call with the Captain in Singapore and the Strike Commander in Zurich, enjoying the sunset in Gibraltar the same way he did before he knew anything, about himself or about his life turning upside down.

Gabriel's office, now his office, is still filled with too many memories, but he's getting through them with some degree of success. A new couch here, a new desk there, and it feels less filled to the brim with ghosts.

"The team is ready to go today." Jack agrees, "We're ready to strike back, and Doomfist is going to spend a long time in prison."

"Provided Tracer can catch him," Jesse reminds.

Sojourn scoffs. "She'll do it. You need to have more faith in them, McCree."

"I only have faith in things I understand, and god knows I don't understand a damn thing about her condition."

"Don't need to understand it to know that it's very effective." Morrison evenly reminds. "Regardless, it's going to be a long day here, I'm heading to bed early. Call if anything comes up."

"Will do, Commander." Both he and Sojourn ring in, and Jesse hangs up. He breathes out, and goes down to the ocean, to relax, and breathe, and stretch himself out once more.

XXXXX

Gabriel's cell door opens in the middle of the night. He's long since adjusted to the time schedule they had him on, but this was new. More Jesse's technique with Moira than him.

It's not Jesse's face he sees, and he backs away from the door, trapped in his cell as a janitor with a needle and a blank expression approaches him.

She says something that turns his attention to nil, and he goes lax. Stands there, resisting with all his energy but trapped within his own body. He screams, or tries to, but nothing comes out.

"Talon doesn't take traitors lightly." The woman says as she jabs the needle into the meat of his arm, before releasing it. "Goodbye, Commander Reyes."

She walks away, closes the door, and locks it behind her.

The second the door is shut, he collapses to the floor in a heap. It wasn't poison, but it might as well have been. Gabriel writhes on the floor as the serum burns in his veins, and he coughs up black slime.

He can't wraith at all, and his body burns. All of his powers are beyond him right now, and he knows with ugly, sinking suspicion that that was all this was meant to do.

It's not just him they're after.

He remembers the suspicious woman in Rome, but he can't scream for evacuation. He can only writhe, and hope Jesse gets out in one piece.

Gabriel was a dead man walking anyways. He's fine with what he's leaving behind.

His heart screams otherwise, that he has never apologized to Jesse, but he just struggles to breathe and tells himself that Jesse will know he was always sorry, and that he always loved him.

He has to know that.

XXXXX

McCree is on his way back to bed when something just feels off, in the very core of his being. The base is too quiet, and the night shift just seem completely absent.

He walks through the overly quiet building, padding in his bare feet and wet shirt and towel. The place was too dark when it was night, especially with the active combat folks in Zurich.

Gibraltar was chosen to be representative of the new Overwatch- it'd be reoutfitted to match their new goals and intentions.

He swallows, as he can't shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong.

His comm rings. Jesse doesn't check it before he answers with a quiet, "Hello?"

"Jesse," Genji sounds surprised. "I…actually just expected you to call me back."

"I was up," He admits, moving through the base calmly, wondering what has the hair on the back of his neck raised. "What do you need, Genji?" He asks, maintaining that professional air he remembers Gabriel always using.

The other man swallows. "Well." Genji's metal fingers hit the comm oddly.

" _Just do it!"_ A peppy young voice presses, and Genji sighs.

"That Tracer?" Jesse asks, amused, and Genji breathes into the comm, before gathering up his words.

"Yes. She's…pressing me to get this over with." Genji sheepishly says. "I should have asked, but you were busy with…Reyes." He acknowledges. "It doesn't excuse my…cowardice. But I know what I want. I've known it for awhile. I just…I want to know if you'd be interested in it as well." Genji says the words overly diplomatically, and Jesse sighs.

"If you wanna fuck me, at least take me to dinner first," Jesse cuts to the chase, rolling his eyes. "Jesus, always knew you had a thing with poking me, coulda made my life a lot easier a lot sooner," He mutters, but Genji sputters.

"No." He pulls back. "I mean, I do, our encounters were never anything but…wonderful. But, Jesse." He sighs. "I'm, I want to take you out for more than dinner to fuck. I want to date." He spills the final words out, and Jesse chokes.

"You want to date _me_?" Jesse questions, and Genji sighs, right along with everyone else in the room.

" _Yes_ , Jesse."

"Do you even like me?" He asks, and Genji groans.

"I do, Jesse." He admits. "Now, do you want to go out with me?"

That boggles him, before he nods, and then he realizes that Genji can't see that, so has been listening to silence for several awkward moments. "Uhm, fuck. Well. Dinner this Friday sound good to you?" He runs a hand through his hair, nervous.

Genji lets out a breath Jesse hadn't realized he'd been holding. "It does." He sounds incredibly pleased with himself, and there is quiet cheering in the background, though it sounds muffled by something. "I'll see you this Friday."

The base suddenly shakes, and though he thinks at first it was just his legs giving out from under him in surprise, he realizes in horror that it might be more serious than that.

"Call you back, Genji, but, uhm. Page the Strike Commander the status of Gibraltar, please, Tracer." He says, and hangs up.

The base shudders again, and he stares up at the arching ceilings carved out of rock in the glorious centerpiece of the base.

He's running before he can put the actual words to it, remembering Rome in his mind like a burning bright flame that ate at his core. He slaps the evacuation button as he runs through, hating, hating with all of his heart that he'd not let Gabriel be taken to Zurich as well.

The alarms go off only seconds before the bombs do, and the screaming begins.

(Some dark part of him is amused by the thought that at least they'd had an evacuation drill recently.)

He gets to the interrogation room, and finds that a hole is blown into the rock, and it's gone, swallowed by the sea.

McCree shouts an angry curse, a harsh refusal, and he dives headfirst, letting instinct take over where fear tried to claw at his drive.

XXXXX

Gabriel had been blown apart by the explosion, his powers locked away from him. His body sank into the water, heavy as a stone, and he couldn't even breathe.

He can't breath, but he's struck by the realization that Moira's theory that he didn't have to breath constantly was proven correct.

His back hits the rocky bottom, he's surrounded by debris and crushed by water and held down by some forgotten piece of the room he was held in.

The moon reflects backwards on the surface, and Gabriel is held there, prisoner to the ocean's cold embrace.

It is a quiet death, a gentler one than he deserves. He has minutes before he'll truly have to breathe, but in the meantime he wastes his precious breath spitting up black slime to the water.

The water breaks the ocean's reflection, the noise far away.

McCree's face is what he sees, desperate and black eyed and all wild hair floating peacefully in the water, hands clawing him free.

It's definitely the oxygen deprivation, but McCree's got gills and a tail that beats furiously in the water as he futilely tries to rescue a man who isn't worth it.

His mouth works, trying to say the words he always meant to say, but the water swallows them.

I'm sorry. I love you.

McCree goes still, like he heard them, or maybe he wasn't ever there at all and the stillness is just death's cold embrace closing in. He closes his eyes and accepts whatever the future holds.

Hands grab at him from all sides, and he is yanked every bit as brutally as he has earned, feeling like they ripped him apart right as the darkness claims him as one of its own.

XXXXX

On the shore, Baptiste does CPR on Gabriel Reyes while Jesse McCree paces, unable to do anything but wait for the rescue party to find them. Olivia sits in her wet clothes, watching the scene quietly.

"Damn it man, come on," Baptiste hisses to the still man at the ocean's edge, the water still lapping at their feet. He pounds on Gabriel's chest, the man's lips turned blue from the cold of the ocean water.

"He's gone, Baptiste." Olivia states the obvious, and Jesse's teeth clench.

"He's _not_ gone." Jesse growls, coming over and pushing Baptiste out of the way, trying to breathe life back into Gabriel, desperate, hating how cold he felt against him, how his blood was draining out to the sea and the sand, and how Gabriel had the audacity to tell him those things he'd never said before.

"Jesse," Baptiste tries to be gentle, but Jesse just hisses, pulling Gabriel's limp body against him.

He has never been able to picture a world without Gabriel in it, and he's not planning on it now. He walks back out to sea, sinking them both into the water, the change coming over him like a phoenix's firey transformation.

He strokes Gabriel's hair; growing in from the lack of care he'd given himself the past several weeks.

"You're not allowed to be gone." Jesse hisses through his sharpened teeth. " _I_ need you, Gabe."

He dives down into the water, planning to rip Gabriel back from the very thing that took him from Jesse.

He can think of every wasted moment, every time that he could have held Gabriel like this and he kisses Gabriel's lips with his own, rough and ugly and desperate and pulling him back because he refused to let anything else be taken from him.

The water faintly glows and turns warm around them, and Jesse feels Gabriel sluggishly move against him, kissing him back sleepily that way they used to when they were good, when they were new.

McCree pulls back and spits the water he's drawn from Gabriel's lungs, holds the man against his form, Gabriel dwarfed against his elongated tail.

The water burns against him, and he hisses as he accepts this pain, as much as he needed to bear. He has never been afraid of pain, not if it would keep the ones he cared about with him.

They rise, and Gabriel coughs, putting his head against Jesse's shoulder.

"Jesse," He gasps breathlessly, nearly voiceless. "You're swimming." He assesses, red eyes the color of his scales looking at him like he'd hung the stars in the sky.

"I am," He agrees with the obvious pulling Gabriel to shore. Olivia is holding and shaking Baptiste's shoulder, pointing and gawking as Baptiste stares slack-jawed.

"Holy _shit_ land shark." Olivia runs a hand through her wet hair. "That kind of power, that's unparalleled. I've never seen anything like it, only ever heard about in fairy tales. Jesus _Christ!_ "

He hands Gabriel to Baptiste, the man checking Gabriel's pulse, noticing something on his chest that draws his attention, before he finishes pulling him to shore for treatment.

Jesse pulls himself onto the sand once again, uncaring that he'll be left in the nude.

"Jesse, you have a tail," Gabriel says, shocked as Baptiste nods, patting at bloody burns.

"You're not the only one with secrets, Gabe." Jesse acknowledges, helping Baptiste bandage Gabriel, sitting there in the sand, quiet.

"Oh," He says, and Jesse snorts.

"Find out your top agent is a merman, and all you can say is oh?" Jesse mutters, before Olivia comes over, tapping Gabriel's head.

"He was just dead." She reminds, as a light is shone down the side.

"McCree!" Jack shouts from the top of the cliff. "Gabriel!"

"That'll be our cue." Olivia hums. "You owe us, land shark." She reminds. "I've always wanted a friend with that kind of power."

Baptiste and Olivia vanish into the waves, and Jesse shouts back up. "Jack! Down here! Morrison, _help!_ "

XXXXX

When Friday night comes, its not half as romantic as Jesse would have thought it'd be. For one, Angela refuses to let him out of the hospital wing. He's covered with burns, as is Gabriel.

Switzerland is a nice change in pace from Gibraltar, and the call of the ocean isn't audible anymore. Unfortunately, leaving the ocean meant that McCree spent the days between Monday- the day of the explosion- and Thursday unconscious, it's power draining out of him.

That might be part of why Angela won't let him go to his quarters, but he doesn't bother to think about that right now.

Gabriel's visual appearance has changed considerably. Moira came in with her minder, Sojourn, and had just about had a fit. The explosion did considerable damage to him, but he was alive, and that was what all of them cared about.

("Talon tried to kill him." Moira's voice shakes. "We…we're not going back. Never. They'll kill us.")

Either no one has noticed the mark over Gabriel's heart, but Jesse does his better to have everyone else ignore the starburst of red, occasionally glow-in-the-dark material.

Jesse knows, deep in his bones, that that mark is from him. When he brought Gabriel back from his watery grave, he bound the two of them together.

For now, he's just grateful that he's here, in one piece, and so is Gabriel.

_("I'm telling you, Jesse, you should count your blessings that you were so close to shore, carrying another human being is dangerous when you yourself are not a good swimmer." Angela criticizes next to Moira, who seems oddly subdued._

_He nods, feigning regret. "Trust me, I've been unconscious this past week, I'm incredibly thankful." He agrees to make things easier.)_

According to Angela, he's only been awake once or twice, and he's not been over responsive those few times he has been. The only thing he's cared about is when they try and pull him and Jesse apart. So Gabe is still all but glued to his hip, but McCree hasn't tried too hard to remove him.

He's half expecting that his date had been cancelled when (according to Angela,) Tracer pinged the status of Gibraltar to Morrison and they'd been alerted in that instance that the base was being blown up in a terrorist attack, and half expects Genji just doesn't show up after he had seen him and Gabriel lying like that.

But Genji surprises him, and he does come into the room.

He's holding a bouquet of flowers, and standing there looking incredibly awkward.

"Hey." He waves, and Jesse waves him in.

"Hey yourself." Jesse says, sighing as he leans back. "Sorry that this really ain't gonna be much of a date, Genji."

"I'll take a rain check on that," Genji tells him, quiet. "I just…I want to be here."

He puts a hand on Jesse's, and Jesse's heart thumps.

"I've…spent a long time, trying to stay away, trying to move on from you." He explains, quiet. "And I know now. I don't want to. I want you, Jesse. If you'll let me in."

"Shit, Genji," McCree drawls, blinking, "You know how to put a man on the spot."

"I can go, if you need." He backtracks and Jesse shakes his head.

"No," He disagrees. "Stay."

Genji stands for a moment longer, before he comes closer, sits on the hospital bed meant for Gabriel, that Angela had left even after she'd given up trying to pull them apart.

"What happened?" Genji asks, and McCree's fingers rub the course fabric of the hospital blanket he's been sleeping under.

"The official version is that I was in my office, heard activity in the lower levels and went to investigate. Then you call as the building starts to shake, I press the evacuation button, and the bombs go off. Gabriel and I were launched out together and I bring him to shore, to wait for rescue."

"So what really happened?" He asks, and Jesse looks down at Gabriel thoughtfully.

"I was swimming, had just come back in." He rubs Gabriel's face. "Next bit's correct, but…I had to run to go get Gabriel. He was already at the bottom of the rocky sea floor. Tells me…that he's sorry," Jesse's voice becomes more withdrawn as he slowly rubs his lips. "That he loves me." Brown eyes find Genji's own, and McCree's gaze softens fully. "And he dies."

Jesse pulls them apart; lets Genji see the mark on Gabriel's chest that glows slightly in the dark between Gabe and Jesse's chests. "But I don't let him. I pull him back."

Genji sits there, contemplating, and Jesse puts Gabriel back down. "I don't know what I did. I just…I can feel him, now." He murmurs, soft. "I don't know how he's gonna be, what this'll mean, if it means…anything." He turns to Genji and his expression softens. "But…I, I kept thinking about the kiss. And what you said."

Jesse waits, sees if Genji says anything. When he doesn't, he takes in a shuddering breath, and starts again. "I…I wanted you too," He admits, sheepish. "You were…desirable, I wasn't blind. But I just…I assumed you hated me. My every attempt to get close was rebuffed, and…well. I assumed you wanted Angela, not me. And then you had her. And I had…Gabe." He gestures, stroking his hair. "If I can call it having. But then you kissed me and…I don't know anymore."

He looks to Genji, needing him to be sure. "Do you really want me? Or is it just my body, or a quick fuck, or somethin' else, because I don't think that," Jesse is shut up, pressed back against the bed.

Genji is kissing him, possessive, kind, moving Gabriel out of the way to get a good angle on Jesse's mouth.

The kiss is chaste compared to the one in the elevator, but he still pants as they separate.

"I want…anything you're willing to let me have, Jesse." Genji says, voice firm. "I'm… tired of pretending. I want _you_ , and I have ever since I first saw you, Jesse McCree, and your infuriatingly easy eyes and your stupidly charming personality and how you seemed to be able to get along with everyone but only ever really let in a few key people."

Jesse is left staring, and he nods. "Okay." He agrees, at a loss for words. "I…if you're willing to have me as I am." He tentatively reminds. "Warts and all."

"I'm willing to have all of you." Genji agrees. "Even if that one comes as a…bonus." He looks down to Gabriel, whose fate was still left undecided between them.

"He might have to." Jesse murmurs, careful on his pitch here. "But he's not bad lookin, I reckon."

"It'll be a conversation for later." Genji mutters. "For now…I want to kiss you again. May I?"

"Go right ahead, partner," Jesse agrees, breathless, feeling like he'd already moved too fast, but Genji is quick to move in and close the difference between them all over again, not willing to let the water seep in and breath them apart again.

(That's how Angela finds them later, three bodies curled on one bed, Jesse centered between two men who were both afraid of how deeply they'd let themselves feel.

She lets them rest, for now. The rest can be resolved later.

For now, their worlds had stopped falling apart, and that was enough to celebrate with a drink for herself, poured over ice.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. A lot of ground covered, and thats a wrap, folks! For now. I'm going to do a oneshot in this universe maybe some months after the end of this story (in universe not IRL lol)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, I'm glad so many people enjoyed this and I have loved hearing from you about how it went. It means a lot to me!!


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